


One Hundred Ways

by LoverCrowley (ShadowScale)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sharing a Bed, chapters can be read in any order really, some are related but i say so in the summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 55
Words: 31,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowScale/pseuds/LoverCrowley
Summary: 100 different ways to say "I love you"





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

> Q: Did you make this list yourself?  
> A: No, I got it from [here](https://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you)
> 
> Q: Are you really going to write all of these?"  
> A: That's the plan.
> 
> Q: How often will you write and update this work?  
> A: Your guess is as good as mine. It all depends how busy I get.

Here are the prompts I plan to follow in this work, one per chapter, in order. Some take place in the same 'verse, which I've marked with brackets.

  1. “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.” [Standard]
  2. “It reminded me of you.” [Standard]
  3. “No, no, it’s my treat.” [Standard]
  4. “Come here. Let me fix it.” [Standard]
  5. “I’ll walk you home.” [Human AU]
  6. “Have a good day at work.” [Human AU]
  7. “I dreamt about you last night.” [Standard]
  8. “Take my seat.” [Standard]
  9. “I saved a piece for you.” [Standard]
  10. “I’m sorry for your loss.” [Get Pets AU]
  11. “You can have half.” [Standard]
  12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” [Standard]
  13. “Sorry I’m late.” [Standard]
  14. “Can I have this dance?”[Standard]
  15. “I made your favourite.” [Standard]
  16. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” [Standard]
  17. “Watch your step.” [Standard]
  18. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” [SD Cottage]
  19. “Can I hold your hand?” [Uni AU]
  20. “You can borrow mine.” [Standard]
  21. “You might like this.” [Standard]
  22. “It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.” {Human AU]
  23. “I’ll wait.” [Human AU]
  24. “Just because.” [Standard]
  25. “Look both ways.” [Standard]
  26. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” [Human AU]
  27. “Try some.” [SD Cottage]
  28. “Drive safely.” [Standard]
  29. “Well, what do you want to do?” [SD Cottage]
  30. “One more chapter.” [SD Cottage]
  31. “Don’t worry about me.” [Get Pets AU]
  32. “It looks good on you.” {SD Cottage]
  33. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” [Standard]
  34. “That’s okay, I bought two.” [Uni AU]
  35. “After you.” [Human AU 2?]
  36. “We’ll figure it out.” [Standard]
  37. “Can I kiss you?” [Uni AU]
  38. “I like your laugh.” [Human AU]
  39. “Don’t cry.” [Standard]
  40. “I made this for you.” [Standard]
  41. “Go back to sleep.”
  42. “Is this okay?”
  43. “I picked these for you.”
  44. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
  45. “What do you want to watch?”
  46. “You can go first.”
  47. “Did you get my letter?”
  48. “I’ll do it for you.”
  49. “Call me when you get home.”
  50. “I think you’re beautiful.”
  51. “Are you sure?”
  52. “Have fun.”
  53. “Sit down, I’ll get it.”
  54. “I made reservations.”
  55. “I don’t mind.”
  56. “It brings out your eyes.”
  57. “There is enough room for both of us.”
  58. “You don’t have to say anything.”
  59. “Wow.”
  60. “Happy birthday.”
  61. “I’ll pick it up after work.”
  62. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
  63. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
  64. “It’s two sugars, right?”
  65. “I’ll help you study.”
  66. “Stay over.”
  67. “I did the dishes.”
  68. “You didn’t have to ask.”
  69. “I bought you a ticket.”
  70. “You’re warm.”
  71. “No reason.”
  72. “I’ll meet you halfway.”
  73. “Take mine.”
  74. “We can share.”
  75. “I was just thinking about you.”
  76. “I want you to have this.”
  77. "Call me if you need anything.”
  78. “Do you want to come too?”
  79. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”
  80. “Is your seatbelt on?”
  81. “Sweet dreams.”
  82. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
  83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”
  84. “The key is under the mat.”
  85. “It doesn’t bother me.”
  86. “You’re important too.”
  87. “I saved you a seat.”
  88. “I’ll see you later.”
  89. “I noticed.”
  90. “You can tell me anything.”
  91. “I hope you like it.”
  92. “I want you to be happy.”
  93. “I believe in you.”
  94. “You can do it.”
  95. “Good luck.”
  96. “I brought you an umbrella.”
  97. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
  98. “Take a deep breath.”
  99. “Be careful.”
  100. “I love you.”




	2. Pull over.

Crowley lifts his glasses slightly with one hand and rubs at his eyes. “Urfn,” he grumbles.

“What was that?”

“Hnn, nothing.” The demon stifles a yawn. “Jus’ a little tired. Would you mind terribly if I went right to bed when we get home?”  
Aziraphale watches him, watches the way the lights of passing cars and streetlamps cause the shadows to bend and swoop over his features. “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”

Crowley smirks, laughs. He glances over at Aziraphale, to the road, and back again when he sees his serious face. “You’re joking, right?”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Why is that funny? You’re clearly very tired, and that’s no condition to be operating a motor vehicle.”

“Operating a motor vehicle,” Crowley mimics, pitching his voice upward. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“It can’t be that hard.” A sly expression crosses his face, gone with the next passing shadows. “I mean, even you can do it.”

“Wh- What’s that supposed to mean? Even I can do it?”

After another minute of protest, Crowley pulls over and switches seats. He observes as Aziraphale adjusts all the mirrors, double, then triple checks them. He starts to drive. 

He’s not bad.

“Have you known how to drive this whole time?” Crowley asks, suspicious.

“Well, I have a general idea of what all the pedals and buttons up here do. And steering is pretty self-explanatory.” Aziraphale keeps his eyes on the road and the speedometer needle glued to the speed limit.

“Mhm,” Crowley hums, unconvinced. “You’re miracling this smooth drive, aren’t you?” It’s hard to tell, what with the poor lighting, but Crowley is pretty sure he sees a blush rise on Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“I, er. I suppose it can’t all be attributed me being a natural.” He glances over at Crowley for a quarter of a second. “In any case, I’m taking care of it so, you can rest.”

“Why, something you need from me when we get home?”

“No,” Aziraphale shrugs. “You can go right to bed when we get there. I know you like your sleep, so I thought I’d give you a head start.” He thinks for a moment. “Can you fall asleep in a car?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever tried, but I certainly will now, since you’re taking care of things.” Crowley slumps down. The Bentley was his baby, but he knew Aziraphale would be careful, would take care of it. Would take care of him. “Thanks, Aziraphale.”


	3. It reminded me of you.

Shading his eyes with one hand, Aziraphale looks up at the sky. “Perfect weather today, isn’t it? And yesterday the forecast insisted it was going to pour all day.”

“Hm, yes how strange. How very lucky though, don’t you think? That there’s nice weather the very day we decided to finally check this whole thing out.” 

By ‘this whole thing’ Crowley meant the local craft fair. There were tents and tables abound, with artists showing off wares from paintings to candles to jewelry to sculptures. The angel turns to look at him curiously, and Crowley shrugs. “Don’t look at me like that, even I don’t have the power to change weather. It really is just lucky.”

They wander the aisles, chatting with the sellers here and there. On a couple instances, Crowley turns around to find the angel no where in sight, only for him to reappear minutes later with a little bag or box in his arms.

When they’ve had their fill of sights and smells (and snacks) they return to the car, Aziraphale carefully laying his purchases in the back seat.

“Oh, I’ll just be a moment, dear,” Aziraphale says. “It looks like that man over there could use a hand loading his boxes.”

Crowley watches him go, then eyes the assortment of items on the seat. He picks one at random. A small box, no bigger than an apple. He pries the top off and nudges aside the tissue paper. He stares. Someone behind him clears their throat and he jerks to stand, hitting his head on the doorframe in his haste.

“I believe that is _my_ box.”

Crowley looks down at the cube in his hand, feigning surprise. “Is it? Silly me.”

Aziraphale scrunches up his face, waits for an explanation.

With a sigh Crowley gently extracts the object and holds it up. “You really bought this?”

Eyes flicking between Crowley and the figurine, Aziraphale sniffs and raises his chin. “Yes well, I do like to support local artists.”

Crowley gives him a disbelieving snort. “And you just happened to want to support one who made this?”

“And perhaps…” Aziraphale gives in. “It reminded me of you.”

Crowley fixes his eyes on the little snake figure sitting in the palm of his hand, coiled in on itself. Smooth black scales and soft yellow eyes. 

He doesn’t smile. He feels the corners of his lips pulling upward, but he definitely doesn’t smile, definitely doesn’t feel an overwhelming sense of fondness coiling in   
his belly.

“That’s nice,” Crowley says at last. He carefully rewraps the figure. “That you’re supporting local artists, I mean.”

“Of course, dear.”

“And… the other things?” He tips his head toward the rest of the goods.

“Just a few other things I liked. Now, let’s get going. It looks like it might rain after all.”


	4. It's my treat.

Neon lights and the smell of buttered popcorn. The clatter of carnival games and the roar of rides. It’s a nice change of scenery from the bookshop, and the park, and the restaurants.

Aziraphale isn’t so interested in the rides aside from the ferris wheel, but he’s more than happy to watch Crowley try his hand at some of the games. The demon wins himself a few silly prizes, including a comically large pair of sunglasses and a bright yellow snake plushie which he promptly drapes over Aziraphale’s shoulders. Aziraphale finds that he can’t stop himself from smiling.

As they walk amongst the crowd, Crowley catches the angel’s attention and points to a snack booth. “In the mood for something sweet?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Crowley grins and takes his hand, pulling him in that direction. He gets them a funnel cake to share, holding up a hand when Aziraphale starts to reach into his own pocket for money.

“I got it, angel.”

“But you already paid for all our tickets and everything, let me get this.”

Shaking his head, Crowley holds firm. “No no, it’s my treat.”

It’s warm and crispy and sweet and messy. Both of them end up with powdered sugar and chocolate sauce smeared on their lips and fingertips.

Crowley starts to wipe his mouth with a napkin, but Aziraphale catches his wrist. 

“I got it, my dear.” He leans close and kisses him, tongue darting out to pick up the sugary remnants. “My treat.”


	5. Let me fix it.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon,” Crowley calls out as he wanders back towards their bedroom. 

Aziraphale is standing in front of the mirror, just buttoning up his shirt and 

“Could you hand me my tie?”

Crowley pulls open the top drawer of the dresser and looks over the assortment of colors and patterns. “Which one?”

“I think the yellow tartan would go nicely.”

Turning around to survey his outfit, Crowley shakes his head. “Mm, I think the dark blue would go better.”

“If you think so.”

Crowley plucks it from the dresser and shuts the drawer again. “Come here. Let me fix it.”

Aziraphale looks over and raises his eyebrows.

“Well, come on.” Crowley waves one hand, beckoning the angel closer.

“Do you know how to tie a tie?” Aziraphale asks as he moves to stand in front of the other, eyeing the scarf Crowley wears around his own neck.

Crowley turns up the angel’s collar and pulls the tie around. “Of course I do. I’ve watched you do it often enough.”

Sure enough, he ties it right on the first try. He takes a step away, then closer again to make it’s straight before turning down the collar and adjusting it once more.

“There,” Crowley says sounding a little proud of himself. “All set.”


	6. I'll walk you home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU.   
> Continued in chapter 7.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fell,” Crowley says, looking up with a grin. “Can I get you your usual?”

“You know Anthony, I was thinking of trying something new today. Any recommendations?”

“Well, there’s a lovely oolong blend I had myself this morning. Or if you’re in the mood for something more floral, I might suggest the rose hibiscus tea.”

“Rose hibiscus? That does sound nice.” He starts to open his wallet but Crowley waves him off.

“On the house.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t!”

“Please, consider it thanks for lending me that poetry book, hm?” He turns away from the counter before Aziraphale can say another word about the matter.

The blonde sighs and slips some money into the tip jar anyway before heading to his usual seat, a cozy little table in the corner with plenty of light.

Crowley peers at the book in Aziraphale’s hands when he brings him his cup of tea. “Reading about Finland today, Mr. Fell?” He always seemed to be reading about a different topic.

“Mhm. Did you know it’s the country with the highest consumption of coffee per capita?”

“I had no idea. Perhaps I should have set up a coffee shop there instead of here.”

“Perhaps. But then we never would have met, would we?” 

Crowley feels his cheeks get hot and he nods once, silently. He starts to take a step back and return to taking orders, but Aziraphale speaks up again. “Also, you really can call me Ezra, dear boy. I know I may not look it, but I’m not quite so old.”

“Ah, sorry. I don’t think you look old! It’s just that you remind me of a teacher or professor sometimes, with all the books, and the way you dress... Not that that’s a bad thing!” He adds hastily. “It’s quite a good look, actually. On you. Er. Anyway, enjoy the tea.” He wrings his hands, bites his lower lip to keep himself from saying anything else, and turns back to the counter after an awkward moment.

Aziraphale smiles as he watches him go, finding he does enjoy seeing the other man flustered. He turns his attention back to his book.

Crowley gets back to work, taking orders for coffee and tea and little snacks. The busiest part of the day has already past, but there’s a steady flow of customers to keep him occupied. They come in for the ambiance of the shop as much as they do for the drinks.

It’s nicely sized space, in Crowley’s opinion. Enough seats for 25 or so, a shelf packed with board games and card games, plants lined along the window. Music always plays softly through the speakers and no one can ever guess what song will be next, considering Crowley’s playlist contains everything from soul music to the latest punk rock hit. He’s always happy to oblige and change the music if someone asks that he play something specific[1]. 

As it nears closing time, there are only a couple tables still taken up. One of them has been taken for a few hours now.

Crowley slides into the seat across from Aziraphale and sets a raspberry turnover, neatly cut in half, on the table between them. “Care for a bite?”

“You’re just heaping me with gifts today, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asks, looking over the rims of his glasses at the younger man.

“Not at all,” Crowley replies with a sly smile. “I picked this up for myself really, but I don’t think I could possibly finish it. I figured, you might like to share?”

It doesn’t take much more persuasion for Aziraphale to give in – he does love raspberry.

They chat about books and poetry as they eat. Aziraphale asks about a couple plants he notices are new, and Crowley lights up both at the fact that he noticed, and at the opportunity to talk about them. The blonde smiles as the other man talks, smiles at his smile, smiles at the way he become animated and gestures wildly when he becomes excited. Aziraphale wonders what he looks like behind the sunglasses.

“Why do you wear sunglasses inside?” Aziraphale hadn’t meant to ask this out loud, and startles Crowley who stops mid-sentence on a monologue about red spiders and orchids. “I-I’m sorry, that was rude to ask, I didn’t mean to.”

The redhead gives a nonchalant shrug. “Photosensitivity,” Crowley says simply. “Most people assume it’s for style but, it’s really that I have to squint and I get headaches if I don’t wear them most of the time.” He pulls them off his face and blinks across the table at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale gazes back into eyes that are green, but so light they are nearing yellow in color. “That’s too bad,” he murmurs. “They’re beautiful.” He thinks the smile that comment elicits is beautiful too, but keeps that thought to himself.

Aziraphale realizes he’s been staring for a full minute at the least and glances around, clearing his throat. He sits up straighter, realizing they are the only two left in the room. “Oh! It’s past closing, isn’t it? I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Nonsense, I’ve been having a wonderful time.” Crowley is still smiling softly.

“I have too, but I suppose I should get out of here and let you lock up.” Aziraphale gathers his things and moves to stand.

Crowley replaces his glasses, stands, and pushes in his own chair. He picks up their plate and cups and strides over to set them in the sink to wash. 

“I’ll walk you home,” he calls, before the other can reach the door. “I’ll only be a minute longer here.” He pointedly doesn’t look at Aziraphale’s face as he says this, in fact he keeps his eyes on the dishes. He doesn’t want to see the reaction if it’s negative.

There is a moment of quiet, except for the running water.

“I’m only across the street, dear, I don’t want to trouble you,” Aziraphale says at last, holding his book to his chest.

“Across the street is no trouble at all,” he replies with a smile, though he’s still looking down.

Another quiet moment.

“Alright. I’d like that.”

They cross the street carefully, walking close enough together that their the backs of their hands brush together once or twice. Both resist the urge to link their fingers together. Neither say a word until they’re standing at the door.

“Can I… offer you a drink? Upstairs?” Aziraphale asks as he retrieves his keys from his pocket.

“Upstairs?”

“I live here. I mean, my flat is above the bookshop,” Aziraphale explains, worrying at his lower lip.

“Oh.” Crowley looks up toward the second floor of the building. “I’d like that.”

\---

[1] Only on one occasion did he decline, when someone asked that he play “What’s New Pussycat” 


	7. Have a good day at work.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU.  
> Continuation of chapter 6.

Aziraphale blinks awake and winces, his neck stiff from having fallen asleep on the couch at an odd angle. He sits up and finds himself alone in the room. A blanket that wasn’t there the night before is draped over him, and the coffee table is cleared of any evidence of wine consumption. Aziraphale thinks they went through two bottles, but he’s not sure, doesn’t remember quite clearly. What he does remember is a lot of talking, and then less talking and more intense gazing, and then less gazing and more kissing, and then less kissing and more cuddling, and then, apparently, falling asleep on the couch. It was nice.

It would be nicer if the other man had stuck around, but it seems things didn’t work out like that. He probably had things to do, Aziraphale reasoned. Maybe a pet back home to take care of. Or maybe he just didn’t want to stay, which was perfectly reasonable too, they hadn’t exactly discussed expectations. Crowley may have just been interested in him as a casual thing.

Aziraphale runs a hand through his hair and stands, starting towards the kitchen when he nearly walks right into something. Someone.

“Oh, you’re up-” Crowley says.

“Oh, you’re here-” Aziraphale says at the same time.

“I’m here? Of course. You didn’t think I’d leave without at least saying goodbye, did you?” Crowley is already dressed, somehow looking impeccable, even wearing the same clothes from the day before. Aziraphale imagines he doesn’t look nearly so put together, his hair ruffled, his bowtie undone and still hanging about his neck.   
“The shop does open early so I have to head out,” Crowley glances at his watch, “Soon.”

“Of course.”

“But I made you breakfast. Pancakes.” He steps around him to grab his jacket from its place, draped over the back of the couch.

“You made me pancakes?” Not only did he stay until morning, he made breakfast. Is that something people do when they’re interested only casually? Aziraphale doesn’t think so, but then it’s been a while since he’s dated.

“Is that alright?” Crowley isn’t sure what to make of Aziraphale’s tone.

“Yes, yes that’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Crowley leans in to give him a kiss, chaste but lingering. Aziraphale’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” Crowley takes a step back when he sees his expression. “Last night we… I assumed that…” He clears his throat. “It was just the drinks then? I- I’m sorry for misunderstanding.” He pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and takes another step back, bumps into the arm of the couch.

Aziraphale steps forward and closes the space between them again, cupping the other’s face and kissing him back gently. “No misunderstanding,” he says quietly. “I just hadn’t been sure that you felt the same.”

“I do. I mean, I like you.”

“I like you too, dear.” Aziraphale gives him another kiss, on the cheek this time. “Have a good day at work.”

Crowley watches as the other man turns and moves into the kitchen. “You too, Ezra. Will you come visit again today? Try the oolong?”

“Maybe,” Aziraphale replies, looking over his shoulder with a cheeky smile. “Depends if you have any more raspberry turnovers.”


	8. I dreamt about you.

Crowley wakes with a start, grasping blindly for the source of the noise and squinting blearily at his mobile phone. _True Love_ the ID reads, followed by several heart emojis and accompanied by a candid picture of Aziraphale with his eyes shut and mouth half open in a laugh. Crowley grins and answers the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello dear, are you well?”

“Very well. And yourself?”

“Very. The negotiations are favorable. It’s looking like I may be back earlier than expected.”

“Oh, that’s lucky. Are the books in as good a condition as you’d hoped?”

“Oh yes, they’re just as described and entirely authentic. I know I grumbled about having to come all the way out here to America for them, but it may be well worth it.”

Crowley could hear the smile in Aziraphale’s voice, and smiled in turn. “That’s good to hear then. Anything else exciting going on?”

“I really haven’t had the chance to do any exploring, so I have to say no. Oh, although…”

Crowley sits up and leans back against the headboard. “Although?”

“I, uh,” Aziraphale mumbles. “I dreamt about you last night.” He can hear the demon take in a slow breath at the statement. “I don’t remember the details really, but I woke up feeling happy, so it must have been something nice.

“No details at all?”

“Not a one, except that you were there.”

“That’s a shame. I’d love to find out what your subconscious thinks of me.”

Aziraphale laughs. Crowley closes his eyes and tries to picture him. Guessing from the background chatter, he’s probably sitting in some café, having a cup of tea and   
something sweet. He probably leaned back and closed his eyes when he laughed. Maybe he’s sitting by a window and the sunlight is pouring down over him, lighting up his face, turning his blonde curls golden.

“What have you been up to without me?” Aziraphale asks.

“As it happens, I was dreaming about you just before you called.”

“Daydreaming? I hope you’re paying enough attention to make sure no one makes off with anything from the shop at least.” Aziraphale hears a quiet chuckle, the rustle of fabric, a stifled yawn. He realizes his mistake with a start. “Crowley!”

“Mmm, yes angel?”

“You- you should have said something! I completely forgot about the time difference! It must be early morning there, isn’t it?”

Crowley sighs and turns his head, squinting at the yellow lights of the clock on the nightstand. “ ‘S just past one.” He can practically see Aziraphale’s distressed expression, and adds before he can apologize, “It’s okay. I’d take the real you over the dream you every time.”

“Still, I should have been more aware of it.”

“Hhhn. Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to hear your voice. Really.” A pause. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’ll be back in just a few days though.”

“I’ll make sure your shop is safe until then.”


	9. Take my seat.

“Wow, this is- here,” Crowley stands and motions for Aziraphale to slide over towards the window. “Take my seat.”

“Why?”

“Come on, just slide over.” Crowley sits down again by the aisle once the angel has moved over. “Isn’t the scenery nice?” He perches his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder and gazes out at the landscape that zips by as the train rumble along.

Aziraphale smiles, both at the view and at the comfortable weight now leaning against him. “It’s beautiful,” he agrees. “Although I could have just as easily leaned on your shoulder to get a better look, we didn’t have to switch.”

“I wanted you to have the better view, I know you like this stuff. Besides, this way I can do this too.” Crowley slides his arms around Aziraphale’s middle and gives a gentle squeeze.

The angel sets his hands atop Crowley’s. “Well, in that case I suppose it makes perfect sense.”


	10. I saved a piece.

“How did you like the beignets I brought by this morning?”

“Delicious. It was very nice of you to drop by before work. Actually,” Aziraphale returns from the kitchen, a mug in one hand and a small plate in the other, “I saved a piece for you.”

“Saved one? You didn’t need to do that, I got them for you.”

“I know, but I really thought you’d like one too. Here,” he says, holding out the plate in offer.

Crowley takes the pastry after a moment’s deliberation. “Thanks, angel.”


	11. Sorry for your loss.

“I have returned!” Crowley announces, arms spread dramatically as he enters the shop. “As expected, humans really had the whole ‘doing bad things’ down without any of my intervention, but it was an interesting trip regardless.”

Aziraphale smiles at him from where his is carefully rebinding a particularly dusty volume. “Good to have you back, Crowley.”

“Apparently even on the other side of the world, keeping cats in bookshops is a thing. I stopped by a used book place to see if there was anything you might like but- Say… where’s that bastard Earl gotten to anyway? He usually comes out every time the welcome bell rings, doesn’t he?” Crowley looks around for some sign of the gray tabby.

The mask the angel wore breaks all at once and tears spring to his eyes. “Actually he, ah. Well, he was quite old, we knew that, but a few days ago he…” He sniffles and wipes at his eyes.

“Oh.” Crowley says, taken aback by the sudden shift. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he adds dolefully.

Aziraphale glances at him sideways and sniffs again. “You never even liked him. Always complaining about him getting fur on you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m happy he’s… gone.” He extracts a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to Aziraphale, who takes it with a nod of acknowledgement. “It was sort of cute when he’d curl up in my lap. Besides, I know how much you liked him. And he liked you at least twice that much in return.”

“He’s the only pet I’ve really ever had,” Aziraphale wails, stepping around the desk and pressing his face into Crowley’s shoulder. “Right when he wandered in, I thought he was just adorable. He knocked my cup of tea right over when he jumped onto the counter but the poor dear looked so sorry about it! The way he meowed at the mess… Oh, Crowley.”

A thought occurs to the demon suddenly. “Did- did you name him Earl… because he’s gray? And because the tea?”

Aziraphale giggles despite the situation. “I can’t believe you just now figured that out.”

Crowley rolls his eyes and gives him a tight hug. “Oh, angel. I’m sorry. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> relates to chapter 32, "Don't worry about me"


	12. You can have half.

“Did you bring one for me?” Aziraphale asks when Crowley strolls into the room, a bright red popsicle in hand.

“No,” comes the reply. Crowley sucks at it, making an excessively loud wet noise.

Aziraphale pouts. “When I come in with food I always bring enough for both of us.”

“I usually give you my portion anyway,” Crowley reminds him.

The angel rolls his eyes. “Yes, but it’s the thought that counts isn’t it?”

“Alright then.” He moves to sit next to him. “You can have half.”

“Half? How do you split a popsicle in half?”

“You don’t.” Crowley holds out the treat.

It takes Aziraphale a second to catch his meaning. “Ah.” He leans forward and drags his tongue over it. “Cherry? You usually get strawberry.”

Crowley makes a face. “Damn kid in front of me in line took the last strawberry one.”

“Would you still be sharing this with me if it was strawberry?”

“Of course!” Crowley says after a beat.

“You hesitated,” Aziraphale teases, taking another lick before the melting bit could drip down onto Crowley’s fingers.

“No! I just- I thought it was rhetorical. Of course I would still share.”

“Mhmm…”


	13. Take my jacket.

“Are you quite sure we can’t just… move up in line a bit?”

“Everyone here is at least as determined as we are, they’d never let us ahead.”

“Not even with a little miracle?”

Crowley’s hands fly up in surrender when Aziraphale glares at him “That would be unfair and you know it. Besides-” His glare turns to excitement. “Waiting really builds the anticipation, doesn’t it? Just think how satisfying it will be when we get to the front.”

“Fine, fine,” Crowley concedes. He leans back against the wall and contents himself to scrolling through his social media and replying to comments on his posts, curling in on himself slightly. 

Aziraphale, who’d gone to chat with the group of people standing in front of them, glances over after a time and suddenly feels slightly guilty that he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Crowley looks up from his phone. “What? Won’t you be cold?”

“Go on,”Aziraphale insists, holding out his tan coat. “I’m not the cold blooded one between the two of us. Besides, we really don’t know how much longer we’ll be waiting out here.”

Crowley hesitates but takes the coat and drapes it over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he says quietly. The smile Aziraphale gives him almost makes him return the coat at once, for how warm and fuzzy it makes him feel. When Aziraphale wanders back into the group conversation, Crowley snaps a selfie in the coat and posts the picture captioned: Not as warm as a hug from my angel, but just as loving 💛

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think they're waiting in line for?


	14. Sorry I'm late.

Aziraphale sets down the phone when he hears the front door open, accompanied by the sound of rain pounding the pavement and wind howling through the air.

“Sorry I’m late,” Crowley says, wiping the water from his face with one sleeve, though more drips down from his hair. “It’s a nightmare out there right now.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. Let me take your jacket,” Aziraphale replies, stripping the soaking garment off him. “I assumed you were waiting for this storm to calm down. In fact, I was just about to call and suggest we cancel tonight have dinner another time.”

Crowley lets him hang up the jacket, and miracle up towel before he gets too much water on the floor. “Are you kidding? A little rain can’t keep me away from you. And definitely not when we’re finally going to cook together.”

“Still, it isn’t very safe to be on the road in weather like this. Especially not the way you drive.” Aziraphale takes the towel and tousles his hair, giggling at the way it sticks up at all angles when he’s finished.

“I was very careful,” Crowley promises. “Didn’t go any faster than 70,” he teases, laughing when the angel clucks his tongue at the remark.

“Come on,”Aziraphale says, taking his hand. “Let’s get dinner started.”


	15. Can I have this dance?

“I can’t believe you got us roped into this,” Aziraphale huffs at Crowley as they scan the crowd of dancing students.

“ _Me_?” Crowley replies incredulously. “I’m not the one who thought we check in and see if Adam needed help with anything.”

“I meant schoolwork and the like, not- not volunteering at the dance!” Aziraphale gives a stern look to a pair dancing too close for his liking and they separate at once.

Crowley meanwhile turns a blind eye to the group of older kids who snuck in alcohol for themselves, but only after beaming the idea into their heads that they weren’t to share it or get drunk. “You could have said no when he asked us to chaperone.”

“After you enthusiastically said yes? That would make me look bad,” Aziraphale sniffed.

“I don’t think he would have cared all that much, angel. Besides, a room full of kids and bebop? You must be having a terrible time.”

Before the angel could reply, another volunteer interrupted to let them know their shift was over and they could leave or go hang out at the table if they’d like. Aziraphale was away from the dance floor and seated with a plate of desserts in front of him in a flash.

Crowley settled next to him, an amused look on his face.

“What? I may as well get one nice thing out of this evening,” Aziraphale says. “These cakes are wonderful, made from that local bakery. You know, the one with the flowers outside that you like?”

“And the little raspberry turnovers you insist I buy you every time we go near there?”

“That’s the one,” Aziraphale says happily, taking another bite.

Crowley taps his foot to the music as he watches. The song fades out and the lights dim slightly as a slow song starts playing over the speakers. He smiles.

“Aziraphale?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I have this dance?”

Aziraphale looks up, his eyes widen. Crowley is standing, leaning forward slightly with one hand behind his back and the other proffered, palm upwards. 

“Come on angel,don’t leave me hanging. One dance, and then I’ll take you home.”

Cautiously, Aziraphale lets himself be pulled back out towards the edge of the dance floor, where he settles his hands on Crowley’s waist.

Crowley slips his sunglasses off and tucks them into his jacket pocket before moving his hands to the back of Aziraphale’s neck, fingers brushing against soft curls there.

It’s not a long song, but they dance for the duration of it – if swaying more or less in place can be called dancing – eyes locked on each other.

“We should go dancing sometime,” Crowley suggests, when the song ends. 

Aziraphale stays where he is, arms around the demon. “I don’t know how to actually dance, Crowley. Unless you know a place where the gavotte is still in fashion.”  
“I’ll teach you.”

The angel laughs. “You don’t know how to dance either!”

“Hey!” Crowley protests, but he’s laughing too. “Alright, well we could go out be terrible together. Or just dance in our living room. I think it’d be fun.”

“Like you thought chaperoning this school dance would be fun?”

“Wasn’t it?” Crowley leans close and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“No.” He softens and adds when he sees Crowley’s frown, “But I suppose it had its moments.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's a certain direction you'd like to see a future chapter go, let me know in the comments!! :D


	16. I made your favorite.

“I’m sorry about getting jam on your sweater the other day,” Crowley says as he walks into the room. “I hope this will make up for it.”

“I hope it’s another jar of jam since you and Adam used it all up in that food fight,” Aziraphale replies without looking up from the stack of mail he was sorting through.

The demon makes a mental note, adding jam to his shopping list. “I made your favorite,” he says, handing him a gift box. “I mean uh, I made it in your favorite pattern.”

Aziraphale looks at the box in his hands, up at Crowley, and down at the box again. “You… made jam in a pattern? And put it in a box?”

“What? No! Forget the jam for a minute. Just- open it will you?”

Aziraphale pulls the top off and pushes the tissue paper aside, his mouth forming into a soft ‘o’ shape.

“Do you… like it? If not that’s okay, I can take you out shopping for a replacement instead.” His tone is casual but from the way he worries his lower lip and shifts his weight from foot to foot, Aziraphale knows he worked hard on it.

The angel holds the sweater up to himself. He runs a hand over the soft fabric, the pale blue tartan pattern that is ever so slightly uneven.

“It should fit,” Crowley says. “It might be a tad too big, but I figured better too big than too small, right?”

Aziraphale hugs it to his chest and grins. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first thought with this prompt was food, but I think a few other chapters are/will be about food already, so I tried to go another direction.


	17. I couldn't sleep anyway.

“Was I being noisy? I’m sorry.” Aziraphale’s lips pull into a frown.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Crowley shuffles into the kitchen, leans against the counter. The top buttons of his pajama shirt are undone, his eye mask hangs around his neck and his hair sticks up in a way that reminds Aziraphale of a bird.

“I really did try to be quiet.” He glances at the stove. “Would you like some cocoa, since you’re up? It’s nearly finished.”

“No, I’m alright.” Crowley gives a sleepy smile, tucks his thumbs into the top of his waist band as he watches the angel fill a mug. “I’ll just steal a sip of yours.”

Aziraphale makes a noise like a disapproving hum as he adds a dollop of whipped cream to the top of it. “Could you hand me the- oh.” He turns to see Crowley holding up a small shaker of cinnamon. “You read my mind.”

“You didn’t know I could do that?” He dusts cinnamon over the whipped cream then steals a bit of it on the tip of his finger to taste. “Mmm.”

“Oh well, if you can read minds, what am I thinking about now?” Aziraphale asks, curious as to what the demon will come up with.

“Let’s see…” Crowley rests his forehead against the other’s. “You’re thinking… about watching that antiquing show on the telly while you drink this cocoa.”

A laugh bursts from Aziraphale and he tilts his head up to kiss the tip of Crowley’s nose. “I guess you do know me very well. I’ll keep the volume down so you can go back to sleep.”

“No need, really. I’ll sit out here and watch with you for a while.”

Crowley watches for a very short while and only steals a couple of sips of cocoa while Aziraphale pretends not to notice. Soon enough, with the soft chatter from the TV and the angel’s warmth giving him comfort, Crowley falls asleep. He slumps against Aziraphale’s shoulder and cuddles close. Aziraphale turns the volume down low.


	18. Watch your step.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Related to chapter 15

Crowley’s living room is mostly cleared of furniture, only a plush couch and a desk with a music player atop it are left, pushed against one wall. The sun went down long ago but the room is full of warm light from the fireplace and a few scattered candles (carefully placed so they’re in no danger of falling over or setting anything alight).  
“Watch your step,” Aziraphale laughs as Crowley trips over his own feet and clutches at the angel for balance. “Didn’t you try to tell me you knew how to dance?”

Crowley pouts and straightens up. “I can,” he insists. “Just not when I’m quite this drunk.”

“You could sober up.”

“I could, but I don’t think that would be as fun.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. He’s tipsy too, but being several drinks behind Crowley’s he’s slightly more coordinated. He hums along quietly with the music and Crowley looks at him curiously.

“You like this? It’s not too… bebop for you?”

“It’s not the music one typically waltzes – or tries to waltz – to but… it’s nice.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to start introducing you to more music then.”

They fall into sync eventually, after stepping on each other’s toes only a couple more times. As one song fades into the next, Aziraphale pulls Crowley close and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Incorporating elements of the gavotte, are we?” Crowley teases.

“No,” Aziraphale says simply. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

A smile forms on the demon’s face. “If that’s the case,” he gently spins him and edges toward the couch. “We could take a break from dancing and just do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Faithfully by Journey while I wrote this, so that’s what I imagined them dancing to, at least at the beginning.


	19. Here, drink this.

Crowley groans and blinks his eyes open. A cool cloth is draped over his forehead and one lays over his bare chest as well. Aziraphale stands over him, a glass of something that looks like rosé in hand. He clucks his tongue, sounding annoyed, but the way his eyebrows knit together suggest otherwise.

“Crowley?”

“Yes?”

He lets out a sigh. “Can you sit up? I’m afraid you got too hot out in the garden and nearly passed out as you stumbled in here…”

“Oh.” He does remember that, now that he thinks about it. Even as the sun had climbed higher in the sky and sweat dripped from every pore, he’d insisted on finishing his garden plans today so he could rest all day tomorrow. He was nearly done too, when things started to go a bit sideways – literally, he started feeling dizzy. “Oh. Glad you’re here.” He manages a weak smile up at the blonde then remembers the question. “Oh, yes. I think I- yeah.”

As Crowley pushes himself up to sitting, gripped the arm of the couch as he does. He takes the towel and drags it down over his face, wiping away some of the sweat.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better,” Aziraphale says, offering the glass to him.

“Is wine meant to help with heat exhaustion?”

Aziraphale clucks his tongue again, sounding a little annoyed this time but with an underlying fondness that softens it. “It’s not wine.”

Crowley takes a small sip, then a bigger one, and is about to chug the rest of the glass when it’s snatched from his hand. It’s sweet, but only slightly, with a floral scent. His tongue remains cool long after he’s swallowed it and he can feel himself relaxing almost at once. He looks up at Aziraphale and tilts his head to one side expectantly.

“It’s… well, ambrosia. Diluted, but still quite powerful. I should have mentioned to drink it slowly, but since you’re already immortal there won’t be any real ill effect of having so much at once…”

His vision swims a little and Crowley isn’t sure if it’s still from the heat, or if it’s perhaps from the drink. “Ambrosia? As in… ambrosia?”

Aziraphale nods and sits beside him. Crowley gawks.

“You’ve had ambrosia just lying around in some cupboard all these years?” He’s quite sure now that the dizziness was in fact from the drink, but it’s a delightful sort of disorientation he’s feeling. A feeling like he could take on anything.

“Not just ‘lying around’,” Aziraphale says using air quotes. “I kept it somewhere safe. Where certain beings,” he looks pointedly at Crowley, “Wouldn’t go drinking it up. I only have so much and it’s not easy to get.” He mumbles after a moment, “I’m not really even supposed to have the bottle that I do.”

Crowley’s eyes go wide and he’s staring again, shocked, much like he was when Aziraphale had confessed to giving his flaming sword away. “You lifted it?”

“No! No… Not really. It’s complicated. No one will miss it, if that’s what you mean.” That wasn’t what Crowley meant, but they would both pretend it was so Aziraphale could save face.

“Saving it in case one of us needed a quick recovery, hm? Although I don’t see that I needed one now, I’d be fine in a few hours even without it.” Crowley reaches for the glass and Aziraphale moves away, holding it just out of reach.

“It seems to me you’ve quite recovered so you don’t need anymore, dear,” Aziraphale chides, carefully pushing the hair away from Crowley’s face. “And you’re right, you would have been fine, but…” He pauses. “But I’ve been curious about this stuff for a while.”

It was true. He’d only had a swallow or two of the stuff moments ago but already he was feeling fine – aside from the fuzzy effects of the drink itself. “So you were just testing it out on me!” Crowley tries to sound offended but it comes off as amused. “You can’t exactly put that back in the bottle, can you? And I know you’re not going to just pour it down the sink.”

This is a good point. One that Aziraphale considers for all of four seconds before draining the rest of the glass himself, and licking his lips in satisfaction. He’s surprised that it’s fizzy on his tongue and lacks a strong taste, having expected something like juice.

Crowley barks out a laugh and leans against him. “You continue to surprise me, you know that?”

“Good. I should hope you don’t find me dull, especially since we live together. Also- oh.” Aziraphale sets the glass down.

“What oh?”

“It’s… Hm. Very nice. Sort of like a warm hug, but on the inside.” He’s slightly lightheaded now but also terribly happy. Yes, he can see the appeal of drinking this, and why it was all locked up shortly after a handful of angels had first gotten their hands on it.

“Like this?” Crowley moves even closer and wraps his arms around him, pressing his face against his shoulder.

Aziraphale relaxes into the touch and sighs. “Yes. That might be even better, actually.”

Crowley grins. “What say we stay in tonight? I know we have reservations, but I can’t drive like this and it’d be a shame to sober up and waste this,” he sighs, “Wonderful experience.” He cuddles closer to Aziraphale, nosing against his neck.

“I think that’s a very sensible idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I’m using the idea that ambrosia is a drink for god (gods?) that if drunk by a mortal would make them immortal… assuming they survived some rather nasty effects first. If drunk by an immortal however, it heals and also gets them drunk in the best possible way. Powerful stuff, considering it only took half a glass (diluted!) each to get them pleasantly tipsy.


	20. Can I hold your hand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uni/college AU

“Have you ever been to a haunted house?” Crowley asks the blonde, hands tucked into his pockets as they waited in line, a mass of other students standing around them and chatting away.

“A few, but when I was younger – you know, so it was ones made for kids. Have you?”

“Surprisingly, no. But hey,” Crowley bumps his shoulder against Aziraphale’s. “I’m all for spooky.”

They have only been in the haunted house for about twenty seconds when Crowley jumps at the first scare, moving closer and clutching at Aziraphale’s arm. He realizes what he’s a doing a moment later and hastily lets go, trying to keep a straight face. He really hadn’t expected to be this scared.

A barely-there smile crosses Aziraphale’s face when he feels Crowley’s hand against his arm. All for spooky, huh? He’s tempted to tease him, but holds his tongue. He’s only known him for a month, but they became fast friends and live right across the hall from each other. He knows Crowley wouldn’t admit to being afraid, and certainly wouldn’t like being called out for it.

The next scare comes and Aziraphale lets out a shriek, a little louder and a little more high pitched than it really needed to be. He shifts close to the redhead and asks, pushing a little waver into his voice, “Can I hold your hand?”

Crowley hesitates for only a half-second. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

Their fingers link together and get sweaty as they continue through the house – though whether from the heat of each other, or as a reaction to the scares, or as a reaction to holding hands, neither could really say.

“Not so bad,” Crowley says when they exit, his brave face and saunter having returned.

“Not so bad,” Aziraphale agrees.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands for a while.


	21. You can borrow mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beach!

Crowley sighs and adjusts his sunglasses. He wiggles his toes, digging them further down into the sun-warmed sand. He decides the beach vacation had been a good idea, considering this clear weather.

Aziraphale pops up from where he’d been nearly submerged in the shallow water just a few feet offshore. Droplets of saltwater cling to him, glinting in the light. Crowley decides the beach vacation had been a great idea, considering this view.

“Are you going to join me out here?” Aziraphale calls to him. “Come look at the fish!”

Crowley smiles, shaking his head. “I didn’t bring a snorkel,” he calls back. He hadn’t planned on going into the water at all really, just wanted to lay in the sand, enjoy the heat. He may not be cold blooded in human form, but some snake characteristics held true.

“Come on!” Aziraphale urges. “You can borrow mine.”

He considers this a moment. “Alright, fine.” He is well acquainted with Aziraphale urging him to do things, and knows that a pouty face is the next step. He can never resist that face, so might as well give in now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters updated at once because they're related but also because they're quite short


	22. You might like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beach related!

“I wish we lived closer to the water. It was so nice out there.”

“We could move,” Crowley replies, only half joking.

“Sure, let’s just move, after living here for ages,” Aziraphale laughs.

Crowley bites his lower lip, thinking of the listing for a cottage for sale he’d seen the other day, thinking about how he saved the page, just in case. But he can bring that up another time. “You might like this.” He goes into the other room and reappears with a shell in his hands. One that lights Aziraphale’s face up the moment he sees it.

“When did you pick that up?” The angel asks, sitting up straight and reaching out for it before Crowley is even resettled beside him on the couch.

“While we were down there of course. ‘S from the gift shop though. All the ones we saw at the beach were still alive.”

Aziraphale carefully takes the conch from him and holds it against his ear, smiling at the sound. “It really does sound like the ocean.”

As much as Aziraphale is delighted by the ocean sounds, Crowley is delighted by his smile.


	23. It's not heavy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU

“Do be careful, Crowley.” Aziraphale says gently, setting down a box of books himself.

“Not to worry,” he replies, lifting another box with apparent ease. “It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.” 

“Is that so?” Aziraphale doesn’t say aloud that he looks strong. Slim yes, but he’d seen his sleeves rolled up exposing his muscled forearms, and he’d seen his untucked shirt ride up just enough to show off a peek of abs. Slim, but definitely strong. Aziraphale keeps these thoughts to himself, knowing all too well that Crowley would only tease him about looking and noticing to begin with. Although it might encourage him to roll up his sleeves more often, which would be rather nice.

“Mm. I could lift you, even, if I wanted to.” A pause. “Not that you’re heavy either!”

Aziraphale laughs. “If I’m not already, I will be soon, the way you keep bringing me food and taking me out to eat.”

“But you like going out to eat, and who am I to deny you?” Crowley flashes him a grin and moves one final box. “Is this alright? Or would you like me to help you put them up on the shelves too?”

“No, no that’s alright. Thank you for helping, I just thought it was time to rearrange this place a little.”

Crowley surveys the shop, hands on his hips. “Well, let me know if you’d like any plants, yeah? Might brighten the space up a little.”

Aziraphale gives him a small smile in return. “I think that would be nice, actually.”


	24. I'll wait.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU

Crowley eases away from the kiss with a smile playing on his face. “As much as I’m thoroughly enjoying this, I do believe we have dinner reservations we should be getting to.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale says, though he sounds half-disappointed. “Just give me minute to fix my hair – I’m sure gotten messy with all the tugging you were doing.”

“Oh well those sounds you were making hardly constituted an indication to stop,” Crowley laughs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll just be a minute, you can go down and start the car if you’d like,” Aziraphale says as he starts toward the other room.

Crowley shakes his head. “I’ll wait.” He wanders around in the living room, runs a hand through his own hair, smoothing it down and straightening his tie from where it had been pushed into a strange angle. 

“How does it look?”

Crowley turns on his heel and his eyes widen. “It’s… well worth the wait. I thought you were just fixing your hair?”

Aziraphale adjusts his sleeves slightly, tugging the dark gray fabric into place. “Oh, I was, but then I noticed a stain on my shirt – I must have spilled some tea earlier and not noticed – and while I was changing I thought well,” he shrugs. “I had this suit made sometime ago and then never really had cause to wear it. You’re sure it’s alright?”

It’s a departure from the blonde’s usual attire of creams and tans, that’s certain. He’d even forgone his tartan bowtie in favor of a classic necktie in dark blue. 

“Very sure. Although admittedly, I’m tempted to take it right off you now,” Crowley teases.

“Oh stop,” Aziraphale laughs, pink coloring his cheeks. “You’ve got to take me out for dinner first, at least.” He takes the hand Crowley offers him and they head towards the door together, down the stairs and out the bookshop.

The redhead pauses a moment, looking Aziraphale over again when they reach the Bentley. “It’s really a different style for you. I mean it’s nice! I’m just… surprised.”

Aziraphale gives a coy smile and holds his coat open for Crowley to see the patterned lining inside.

Crowley snorts and opens the door for him. “I should have known there’d be tartan somewhere.”


	25. Just because.

“What’s gotten into you?” Aziraphale finally asks.

All day, Crowley had been hanging all over him, starting right from the moment he’d stepped into the shop. Whether it was a hand on his shoulder or his lower back, or arms wrapped around his middle, or just standing closer than necessary, shoulder to shoulder. At the moment, Aziraphale sits at one end of the couch and Crowley stands behind, bent over so his arms are draped over the other’s chest and his chin rests on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley’s eyes widen slightly behind his sunglasses. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know you like to be very hands-on, but this is more than usual. Why is that?”

“Just because.” Crowley lets go and pulls away, walking around the couch to sit next to the angel, leaving a couple inches of space between them.

“Now I didn’t say it was bothering me, did I?” Aziraphale shifts closer so their legs are pressed together.

“No,” Crowley admits. He adjusts his position so his head is once again tucked against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’ve just been… thinking. That’s all.”

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“You, thinking? That’s always a dangerous thing.” Aziraphale smiles at Crowley’s eyeroll and prompts him, “What have you been thinking about?”

“You. Do you think you would have been happier with someone else?” Crowley bites his lower lip. 

He had meant to leave it at ‘you’ but his mouth often got the better of him, spilling his questions before he had the chance to rein them in. He doesn’t like the stretch of silence that meets him, it feels too much like Aziraphale considering it seriously, considering his other possible lovers and comparing them. Perhaps making a pros and cons list in his head. How much longer would Crowley’s cons list be than his pros? Considerably, he would guess. Maybe he was constructing a point system. How many points would he get? Not enough, he would guess.

At long last, Aziraphale takes a breath and answers, “No.”

Crowley waits for the explanation. None is offered so he gives the angel a nudge with his elbow. “Why not?”

“Just because.” It’s said with full confidence.

A whining sort of noise escapes Crowley’s mouth. He sits up and faces Aziraphale with pleading eyes.

Aziraphale gives a soft smile and obliges.

“I could say it’s because the happiest I’ve ever been is when I’m with you. Because I can’t imagine anyone – angel or demon or human or anything else – who could possibly hope to make me reach that same level. I could list everything you’ve said, and done, every look you’ve given me, every kindness you thought I wouldn’t notice. I could describe what every touch of yours does to me, from sitting beside me to stroking my hair to kissing me. I could try to explain why just thinking about you can make me smile. If I tried to write to write out just how much you mean to me, it would be enough to fill every book in this room, twice. Nobody in this universe or an alternate one can come close to that.

“I could do any or all of those things in answer to your question, and it still would not be sufficient to explain to you how happy you make me. It would not begin to explore the depth of my love for you, or the love that I feel from you. It would be less than a scratch on the surface, and it would take quite a bit of time so… I think ‘just because’ is enough to say for now. I can tell you all the little details another time, if you’d really like me to.”

Crowley stares down at his hands in his lap, Aziraphale’s gaze having become rather too intense for him to meet. “Oh.” He’s too shocked to think of anything more substantial to reply with. “Oh,” he says again. “That’s… good.” It’s so much more than good. It’s great, it’s wonderful, it’s fantastic, it’s marvelous. The anxiety churning in his belly mellows into something soothing and warm and satisfying and familiar. 

Something he wishes he could physically hold onto. Something he wishes he could make into a blanket and wrap himself in. Something he wishes he could pour into a mug and take a sip of whenever he wanted it. 

But no, love was not so easily procured, not the same way other pleasures were. 

He settles himself against Aziraphale again, laying across the couch with his head in the angel’s lap. He’s as close to a physical embodiment of love as there could be, in his opinion. “You make me indescribably happy too, although I suppose you know that.”

“I do know that,” Aziraphale agrees as he cards his fingers through fiery red hair. “But it does make me happy to hear you say it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Let me know in the comments <3


	26. Look both ways.

“This feels very much like I’m being kidnapped, dear.” Aziraphale walks slowly forward, a blindfold tied securely around his eyes, trusting Crowley’s hands to guide him well. He can tell it’s somewhere by the sea, from the gentle crash of waves. He can feel an easy breeze dancing through his curls and smell salt on the air.

“No one would kidnap you, angel. Not even me. Now we’re almost there.”

The firm hands on his shoulders pull him to a stop, untie the blindfold.

“Now, tell me what you see,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale blinks as his eyes adjust to the light. “A grassy cliff.”

“Look both ways.”

Aziraphale looks and adds, “A very empty grassy cliff.” He glances at the demon. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re fed up with me stealing your dessert, and have decided to kill me by throwing me off a cliff where there’s no witnesses?”

“What? No!” Crowley gives an exasperated groan. “Shut up, I’m trying to be nice here.”

“Oh, are you not a demon anymore? Because demons aren’t nice, you know.” He bites back a laugh at Crowley’s glare and holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, just tell me why we’re out here.”

Crowley sighs. “We are here,” he begins. “Because you mentioned the other day you missed being able to fly. So I looked around a bit and found this place. Ta-da!” He spreads his arms wide. “Open space, no one to see us. What do you think?”

Aziraphale looks around again. He’d completely forgotten that conversation. It wasn’t recent either, probably three or four months ago. He wonders if Crowley had been looking for the perfect spot that whole time. Or maybe he found it a while back and was just waiting for a good day to show him – and a good day it was.   
Comfortably warm, only a few fluffy clouds drifting against the blue sky.

“Aziraphale?”

“I think it’s perfect.” He turns extending a hand out towards Crowley, and in the same instant letting his wings fan out behind him. “Are you going to join me?”

They flew until they started to get too tired and the sun began to dip past the horizon, sending the blue-gray water into a mix of orange and pink. When they landed back on grassy turf, Aziraphale wrapped both his arms and his wings around Crowley, a smile plastered on his face.

“Thank you. I haven’t had my wings out, let alone been able to use them since… well I don’t even remember the last time.”

“You’re very welcome. Now turn around, I noticed some of your feathers are looking ruffled.” Crowley sits back in the grass and positions Aziraphale down in front of him, wings spread. “Been a while since you’ve taken care of them?”

“Too long,” the angel admits. 

“Well, they’re not really so bad, considering.” Crowley combs through the feathers gently, deft fingers taking care not to tug hard or at a wrong angle. “I could help you take care of them, if you like. I mean, more regularly.”

“Hmm, would you now?” Aziraphale is torn between watching the sunset, and closing his eyes to fully relax into the feeling of Crowley grooming him. “That would be nice. And I could help with yours too?”

Crowley leans forward and tilts his head to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s jaw, tongue just peeking out to brush against the skin there. He wonders vaguely if the salt taste is from Aziraphale, or from the sea spray. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/4 of the way through this work?! Thanks so much for your kudos and comments thus far!


	27. I didn't mean to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU

“After you,” Crowley says with a flourish of his hand, welcoming the blonde into his flat.

“Why thank you,” Aziraphale replies, stepping inside and letting Crowley take his coat. “And thank you again for inviting me over.”

“I’ve been in your flat more than once, only seems fair that I should play the host for a change, don’t you think?”

“I’m certainly not complaining.” He follows Crowley as he takes him through a tour of the space, chatting about this piece of furniture and that little decoration.

They end in the living room, and Crowley offers Aziraphale a seat while he checks on the food and grabs them each something to drink. He is only gone a moment when Aziraphale bumps the edge of a small table, sending a little potted plant wobbling, then over the edge and onto the floor.

Crowley returns to the room within seconds of hearing the crash. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.” Hardly ten minutes in the other man’s home and he’d already broken something. Wonderful. “I guess I bumped the table when I passed it and – oh, I am sorry.” 

“Ah well, that’s alright.” He surveys the mess. “Not a problem, I probably needed to repot that soon anyway, the way it was growing.” He gives Aziraphale a smile. 

“Oh, well at least let me help clean up, it is my fault.”

“No need, you’re a guest.”

“A guest who just made a mess in your living room. I think I saw a dustpan down the hall, no?” He turns and goes to grab it before Crowley can get another word in.  
When he returns Crowley is just entering from down the other hallway, a new pot in hand. The bright yellow ceramic contrasts sharply against his dark clothes.

They get rid of the broken pieces and scoop as much dirt as they can into the new pot. Aziraphale follows Crowley out to the balcony where he settles the plant into its new home.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Crowley murmurs quietly as he packs in the soil. “You’ll be happy like that, hm? Yeah, you’re growing so well.” He catches Aziraphale’s eye and freezes.

Aziraphale blinks at him and starts to laugh. “I’ve heard of people talking to their plants, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard it happening.”

“It helps them grow,” Crowley says sounding a bit defensive as he dusts off his hands.

“It must, all of yours look so healthy.”

A blaring noise from inside startles them both and it takes Crowley a second to realize it’s the fire alarm.

“Shit! I forgot about the oven!”


	28. Try some.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” Crowley calls, waving one hand to catch the angel’s attention. “What color is this?” he asks once he’s in range, sticking out his tongue to display the candy he’s half-eaten.

Aziraphale makes a face and stops a foot away. “Green.”

“Damn,” Crowley murmurs, shaking his head gently and finishing the candy. “I thought lemon.”

Aziraphale stands beside him for a moment, debating whether he should ask, or just walk away. He loved Crowley, and he loved living with Crowley but it really did amplify just how strange the demon could be. His curiosity finally gets the better of him. “Why did you ask?”

Crowley selects another piece of candy while carefully looking away and pops it into his mouth. “It’s harder to tell what flavor they are without looking. I’m testing myself.”

“And failing?” Aziraphale guesses.

Crowley nods with a pout. “Listen, I know you’re a foodie, but I don’t think you would be able to get them right either. It’s hard!”

“I would be able to tell. It must just be that snake tongue of yours, confusing you.”  
Crowley fixes him with a look then nods towards the empty chair across from him. “Try some.”

He sighs but indulges in playing along, sitting across from his and holding out his hand for a piece.

“Close your eyes first!” Crowley insists, waiting until he’s sure the other isn’t peeking to select a candy and set it in his hand.

“Hmm… orange,” Aziraphale says after tasting it carefully.

“Lucky guess,” Crowley whines. “Do another – no keep your eyes closed, I’ll give it to you.”

Aziraphale gets the next two right and he can feel Crowley fidgeting from across the table. “I told you it’s just you, dear,” he teases. He can’t help it, he knows Crowley hates losing games and while this isn’t exactly a game, it could be seen as one. Aziraphale is careful not to tease too hard though. There’s a reason the game Uno is banned from the cottage.

“I got more than half right,” Crowley returns, more in consolation of himself than defense. “One more, really. Last one.”

“Alright,” he agrees, stretching his arm forward once more, palm turned upward.

There is a long moment during which Aziraphale is sure Crowley is trying to decide which flavor would be hardest to know without the visual cue, when something soft and warm is pressed into his hand, into the very center of his palm. It lingers there only briefly, before it is pressed to Aziraphale’s mouth in the next second.

With a soft sigh, Aziraphale parts his lips and lets his tongue peek out. He tastes a mix of fruit candy, a touch of salt. He tastes the remnants of coffee and knows that it had just a splash of vanilla creamer stirred into it. Blanketing all of this is the unmistakable taste of something he could only describe as Crowley.

“What about that one?” The demon asks as he pulls away.

Aziraphale smiles and reaches out, eyes still closed, to bring him in closer again. “Oh, that was my favorite. I’d know you anywhere”


	29. Drive Safely

Crowley and Aziraphale each go through their own changes after the non-apocalypse. It doesn’t come as a surprise, considering their relationships with Heaven and Hell have, for all intents and purposes, ended, and their relationship with humanity has shifted, and their relationship with each other has been given the space and the resources to blossom.

Aziraphale tidies up his shop, making the aisles a little more accessible and keeping the shelves a little less dusty. Incidentally this creates some open space which Crowley happily fills with various plants, and he insists it’s only because there is good lighting and he wants to help keep the air a little cleaner, not because he knows Aziraphale will think of him every time his eyes catches on the bit of green nestled between volumes.

Crowley decorates his flat a little more. He still keeps it mostly sparse, preferring only a few select pieces of furniture, but he adds some comfort pieces here and there to make it feel a little more like home (although he feels he spends more and more time at the bookshop anyway). Aziraphale takes the opportunity to gift him with a grey tartan blanket, insisting it’s only because he knows Crowley gets cold easily, not because he knows the demon will think of him every time he curls up in it.

Crowley gets a couple new CDs for his car – music that happens to be more to Aziraphale’s taste – and is careful not to leave them in the glovebox too long, lest they transform into Queen CDs (although after listening to a handful of songs with Crowley, Aziraphale decides that some ‘bebop’ is to his liking after all).   
Aziraphale starts to keep around a few audiobooks, casually laying them out on shelves or tables where he knows Crowley will be able to take notice of them. When they disappear and are returned days or weeks later, Aziraphale doesn’t say a word, only replaces them with new ones.

When Crowley tells the angel about his day (full of devious activities such as swapping ‘push’ and ‘pull’ signs on doors) and tells him he should “Loosen up a little,” Aziraphale does. Instead of worrying about the trouble that even such a small act could cause, he laughs a little at the awkwardness of it. He laughs a lot when they go out for dinner and Crowley himself pushes a pull door, having forgotten it was one of the signs he’d swapped.

When Aziraphale bids Crowley good night at the end of the evening and tells him sincerely to “Drive safely,” he does. Well, not safely by human standards but more safely than he normally does. He keeps his hands on the wheel at all times instead of taking selfies and playing Candy Crush. He drives above the speed limit, but only slightly so.

They are not big changes, but they are changes.

There are other changes that are also not big, but they feel ground-breaking.

Crowley stills leans across the table and watches Aziraphale eat when they go out, but he’s acquired the boldness to reach his hand across too, and set it atop the angel’s own. The first time he does it, Aziraphale shifts and Crowley thinks he’s moving to pull away. Instead, he only turns his hand upwards so he can hold him in turn.

Aziraphale still steals bites of Crowley’s food (dessert especially) but he also takes it upon himself to make sure Crowley eats a little more. He takes this so far as offering a forkful of whatever he’s eating to the demon, and finds Crowley is more amenable to eating when he’s being fed.

Each clears out a drawer or some closet space for the other to fill with a set of clothes. Just for the infrequent (but becoming more frequent) occasion of a little nightcap turning into several drinks turning into not wanting to sober up and go home alone.

Each is awkward the first time they try to kiss. It isn’t romantic, not really. They’re standing on the pavement chatting when it strikes Crowley that no one was keeping tabs on them anymore, he could just lean in and kiss him right there. So that’s what he tries to do. In the same moment, the sunlight catches his glasses at just the right angle that Aziraphale can see straight through them, can see what some might describe as ‘heart eyes.’ He leans in too. Unfortunately they both angle in the same direction and end up bumping noses and sending Crowley’s glasses askew. Aziraphale laughs and Crowley clears his throat. They go into the bookshop and try again (it goes much smoother, now that they’re expecting it). It becomes the change in how they say hello and goodbye.

Both are fond of stability. Both are also welcoming to little changes.


	30. What do you want to do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SD cottage  
> Leads right on into chapter 31 :)

“Seems like our plan to go for a stroll isn’t going to work out,” Crowley says, slipping out of his shoes as he steps inside, his sleeves dotted with spots from the rain that was just beginning to fall. “It’s only sprinkling now but the way the clouds look, it’ll be pouring in a minute.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Aziraphale replies with a frown. “Well, what do you want to do?”

Crowley hums, a sound from deep in his chest. “I was thinking we could get the fireplace going and uh…” He unbuttons the top button of his shirt. “Well, I don’t know if you’d be interested.”

Aziraphale tilts his head and looks him over, noting the way he was fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. “I won’t know unless you tell me what you have in mind, dear.” 

It was sort of an odd request, what Crowley had in mind. Certainly not something he’d asked before, and while he was sure Aziraphale would be willing he was also sure he would have some questions and Crowley didn’t like questions – not ones directed at him anyway. He much preferred to be the asker, not the answerer.

“I was wondering…” He crossed the floor to the couch, sitting at the edge of a cushion as if he might need to make a run for it. He planned to do just that if Aziraphale should laugh at him, although given that the cottage wasn’t particularly large there wasn’t much place he could run to. It didn’t really matter, he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t laugh. “Would you read to me?”

Aziraphale looked at him, unsure if he’d head him right, and then unsure if he was being serious. “Read to you?” He repeated.

Crowley shifted, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yeah. The other day when you were talking about that book you’ve been reading – about the uh, wolves? – it sounded interesting. Would you mind… reading out loud?” Shoulders hunched, he rubs the back of his neck and adds, “Unless you have something else in mind to do? That’s fine too, I just thought I’d suggest something. And I know you like reading anyway. So. Yeah.”

Several comments and questions zip through Aziraphale’s head, including ‘I didn’t think you really listened that much when I talked about what I’m reading’ and ‘Since when are you interested in books?’ but he holds his tongue and keeps them all to himself. Instead he smiles brightly. “If that’s what you’d like to do, I’d be happy to.”

He retrieves the book from the night table in their bedroom and grabs an extra blanket as well although he’s confident the heat from the fireplace will be enough to keep them both cozy. He sits at the opposite end of the couch and almost immediately Crowley is stretching to lay his legs over Aziraphale’s lap, a soft smile stuck on his face and a shine in his eyes that isn’t a reflection of the dancing fire.

“I like books. I mean, I like the stories,” Crowley says. “But I have a hard time reading – maybe because of my eyes, or something else, I dunno.” He shrugs, head turned to face the flicking flames. He said it so Aziraphale didn’t have to ask, didn’t have to feel like he was putting the demon on the spot.

There is a gentle pat to his shin. “Okay.” The soft scraping of paper against paper. “Shall I start from the beginning?”

“Mm, you don’t have to. I think you gave a good summary of what happened so far.”

Aziraphale knows he says this at least partly because he thinks it would be an inconvenience to start at the beginning. He starts at the beginning anyway, insisting it’s no trouble.

Crowley is very fun to read to, as it turns out. His stifled laughter, his murmurs of ‘oh no,’ his sighs of relief. It makes Aziraphale feel like a performer with a single, subtly enthusiastic audience member. He typically only ever reads to himself, and silently at that, but he could get used to doing this too.


	31. One more chapter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SD cottage  
> Follows the events of chapter 30

Crowley has moved so he is curled against Aziraphale’s shoulder, adamant that it’s only so the blanket can fully cover both of them, and certainly not because he wanted to link their arms and cuddle close, no, of course not.

Sometimes he reads along on the page, though only for a few minutes at a time. Sometimes he tips his head up to watch Aziraphale’s eyes slide left and right, to watch the shape of his mouth as he reads aloud. More often than either of these things he closes his eyes entirely, focusing solely on the angel’s voice and the images that are drawn up in his imagination. 

After several chapters, Crowley gently takes Aziraphale’s wrist, thumb resting against his pulse point. The angel pauses midsentence.

“You can stop if you’re getting tired,” Crowley says. He’s noticed the way Aziraphale’s reading pace has slowed, how his voice has lowered both in volume and in timbre. A yawn or two has even managed to slip past his lips, muffled by a quick hand over his mouth before giving way to the story again.

Aziraphale considers this as he looks at him, thinks about how gentle and relaxed he seems. He could never get tired of seeing Crowley like that.

“One more chapter?” Aziraphale suggests. “And then you can take me to bed.”

A soft giggle comes in reply. “Take you to bed as in carry you there, because you’ll have fallen asleep? I think I can manage that.”

The next chapter goes by quickly but Aziraphale is again yawning (though not for lack of excitement in the story – if anything they are leaving off just when events are really starting to heat up) and he can feel that his eyelids have grown heavy, each blink lasting just slightly longer than the previous. Crowley slips out from beneath the blanket and piles it in Aziraphale’s lap atop the book, scooping the angel into his arms a moment later and paying no heed to the yelp he receives for it.

“My dear-!” Aziraphale exclaims, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck as they start towards the bedroom.

“I said I’d carry you there, didn’t I?”

“If I fell asleep, you did. But I’m still awake.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’ll just leave you here then.” Crowley makes a jerky motion, as if he’s going to drop him right there in the middle of the floor.

“Don’t!” Aziraphale laughs, clinging tighter despite knowing he wouldn’t dare drop him, and if he did it would have been an accident that he would feel sorry about for weeks on end, even if Aziraphale didn’t get hurt in the slightest.

Crowley takes him to bed as promised, laying him on the right side before crawling up onto the mattress himself and miracling them both into pajamas to save some time. 

“Thank you,” they both say at the same time.

Then again in unison, “What for?”

Crowley stays quiet and raises his eyebrows.

“For carrying me. And for being, in general, very sweet.” Aziraphale leans close and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I’d say I’m more savory than sweet, but okay,” Crowley says in lieu of just accepting the compliment. “I was saying thanks for reading to me. We could finish the book tomorrow maybe? If you want. There’s not much left.”

“Yes, I think that’d be nice.” Aziraphale starts to suggest he could find some audiobooks of stories Crowley may be interested in listening to, but stays quiet instead. He rather likes spending time reading to the demon himself after all.


	32. Don't worry about me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Related to chapter 11 "I'm sorry for your loss"

“Your eyes are closed?”

“Yes, dear.”

“You’re sure?”

“I think I’d know whether or not my eyes are closed. What are you bringing in here? If it’s another set of erotic novels I’m telling you right now-”

“It’s not books, angel. Just sit tight and I’ll be in in a minute. Okay?”

“Are you-” The line goes dead and Aziraphale huffs, fumbling to hang up his own phone while keeping his eyes closed. The list of things that Crowley could be bringing in as a surprise was long and varied, and Aziraphale tried not to waste anymore energy on guessing what it would be. That being said he did hope it was the set of cufflinks he’d been eyeing at the shop the other day when he and Crowley had decided to do some window shopping. He also hoped it wasn’t an orchid as he’d killed the last two Crowley had brought in for him.

The angel hears the door jingle open and shut carefully – already a marked difference from Crowley’s usual loud and boisterous entrance. He must be carrying something delicate then? Soft, even footsteps approach him and Aziraphale sits up a little straighter in his armchair.

“Crowley?”

“Hm. Now, before I hand this to you – keep your eyes closed – just know that this doesn’t mean I like-”

_mew_

“Hey, don’t interrupt,” Crowley chides. He looks up to see that Aziraphale’s eyes have popped open at the noise, and says, “Hey! I said eyes closed!” 

“Crowley it’s a kitten!”

The demon gives a sigh. “Yes. Yes, I’m aware. I am the one holding him right now.” He steps closer and leans to gently deposit the kitten into Aziraphale’s eager hands.

“Oh, what a cutie,” he laughs as the kitten paws his way up the angel’s belly to his chest. “Whose is he?”

“Yours. Try to pick a better name than ‘Earl’ this time, yeah?”

“Mine?” He scoops the animal from his chest to get a better look at him. Black and white fur, curious green eyes. He can feel himself grinning hard at the little creature.

“Yours,” Crowley repeats. “Someone to keep you company when I’m not here. That’s all.” He’d been a little worried Aziraphale wouldn’t take well to having another pet so soon – a potentially very rambunctious kitten at that – but his smile put him at ease.

“And having a kitten around the shop is alright with you too? He’ll be half yours, really.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Crowley shrugs. “As long as he makes you happy.”

“I’m sure he will.” Aziraphale directs his attention back to the kitten. “Won’t you? Yes, you’ll be so sweet to me and Crowley, I know you will. And I won’t let him bully you.”

“I wouldn’t bully a cat, Aziraphale,” Crowley says, rolling his eyes.

“I meant I won’t let the cat bully you, sweetheart.”

“Oh really? Earl used to bully me and you didn’t do anything about that.”

Aziraphale half covers his face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his laughter. “That’s because I thought it was funny when he did. Knocking your things over, almost tripping you. You’re normally so graceful I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.”

“You bastard,” Crowley grumbles, but he’s smiling too, and reaches out to pet the newest addition to their bookshop.


	33. It looks good on you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SD cottage

There is the quiet sound of plastic sliding against metal and fabric against fabric as Aziraphale looks through his closet, pushing hangers this way and that as he decided on his attire for the day. His usual waistcoat and a pair of trousers were laid out over the back of a chair already, he was only trying to choose what color scheme of shirt and tie he should go with.

Crowley watched from where he sat at the edge of the bed, taking in the assortment of whites and tans and creams and pale blues and pale pinks. His own closet was distinctly different in color (black, gray and red were all the colors he needed, thank you) and in size (more often than not he simply miracled his clothing together and so his closet held only a handful of his favorite pieces). He had long known that he and Aziraphale were far from being two peas in a pod, but the realization of it struck anew in that moment and he barked out a laugh causing the angel to turn and give him a questioning look.

“We are so terribly different, angel.” He pushes himself from the bed and moves to stand beside him. “I mean really, could you even imagine me wearing something like this?” Crowley plucks a pale pink button down from the rack and holds it up to himself.

Aziraphale regards him for a moment then hands him a waistcoat, jacket and bowtie. “Not without these too. Go on.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow at him as he accepts the articles into his hands. “Go on what?”

“Try them on. You’ll have to miracle the sizes a bit, but I’m curious now.”

The demon stares as if Aziraphale has just suggested he jump into a lake to see what being a duck is like.

“Well I really _can’t _imagine it, but there’s no need to imagine if you simply show me the real thing, hm?” Aziraphale continues, blinking at him expectantly and Crowley gets a sneaking suspicion that this was not a spur of the moment request, but rather one he’d been holding on to until an opportunity arose. And Crowley had just created the perfect opportunity.__

__“Well…” Crowley begins. “You should try on something of mine too, in that case.” He drapes the clothes Aziraphale handed him over one arm and reaches his own closer in two long strides._ _

__“I hardly think that’s necessary…”_ _

__“Necessary? Not at all. I think it would be fair though.” He takes only a moment to collect an outfit and push it into Aziraphale’s hands. “Do remember, angel, the pants are meant to be tight.”_ _

__“I don’t- oh.” Aziraphale sighs and looks down at the clothes in his arms as Crowley exits the room. “Only to be fair,” he murmurs to himself, ignoring the part of his mind that is very interested in what he’ll look like._ _

__When Crowley returns, Aziraphale is standing in front of the mirror turning one way and then the other to view himself at different angles._ _

__“It looks good on you.” It’s the truth, and honestly not what Crowley had been expecting. He was ready to poke fun at the angel for looking wildly out of place in the skinny jeans and heavy leather coat, but he made it work somehow._ _

__The angel turns and his jaw drops at the sight of Crowley looking not at all like Crowley. “You look different.”_ _

__He’d combed his hair down and parted it neatly on one side. The pink tartan bowtie was done up neatly around his neck, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to the elbow. Aziraphale hadn’t given him any trousers so he’d miracled up a fitting but not tight-fitting light gray pair to match the waistcoat._ _

__“So I look terrible, thanks,” Crowley laughed, sauntering towards him._ _

__“I didn’t say that!”_ _

__“Right, you said ‘different’ which is just code for terrible.”_ _

__“No,” Aziraphale says, reaching out to run a hand down Crowley’s torso. “I just meant different. You still look good, you always do.” He clears his throat after a second. “You know, I don’t recall ever seeing you wear this jacket,” he says, gesturing to his own torso._ _

__“Ah, that’s because I haven’t. Yet. It’s new. Although I may just let you keep if, if you like it.”_ _

__“No thank you, dear, it’s all yours.”_ _

__“Are you sure? I could get some fun patches to put on it for you. A pair of wings on the back perhaps?”_ _

__Aziraphale scoffs and lets Crowley turn him around again so they are both facing the mirror. They are both quiet for a minute, studying each other._ _

__Crowley finally breaks the silence. “I like that we’re so different.”_ _

__“Me too,” Aziraphale says softly, and then after a pause, “But what I’d really like is to get out of these jeans. I don’t know how you stand wearing something so tight.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST made this chapter about Halloween costumes, but I resisted the urge


	34. Hold out your hands.

“Sit tight for a minute, my dear. I have something for you.”

Crowley freezes, glass of wine raised halfway to his lips. He sits up straighter and looks at Aziraphale with a frown. “What do you mean? We agreed not to get each other gifts.” It was their third anniversary and they’d made an agreement that they would go out and have a special dinner, but that they would not be exchanging gifts. Crowley had stuck to this agreement, knowing that Aziraphale would feel guilty if he didn’t have anything to give in return. Except now, the roles were apparently reversed.

“I know, but this isn’t _really_ a gift.”

“But it’s something you’re giving to me? That sounds like a gift.”

“So you don’t want it?”

Crowley shut his mouth and set the glass aside. If Aziraphale had gotten him something it would be rude to reject it, right?

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” the angel says. He waits for Crowley to do just that before procuring a spiralbound book and setting it into his hands.

“It’s… a book,” Crowley says, managing to keep any confusion or disappointment out of his voice, but as a result leaving it sounding flat and neutrally uninterested. He tries again, injecting some enthusiasm into it. “I mean, it’s a book! Oh good!”

“It’s a scrapbook, actually. It’s for both of us which is why I don’t think it really qualifies as a gift.” Aziraphale bites his lower lip. “I thought you should do the cover, but I started putting some pictures and things together inside already, if you want to take a look.”

Crowley runs his fingers over the smooth, blank cover before opening up to the first page and grinning immediately. It’s a collage of photos from over the years. Some of them he took himself, some of them are candid shots that Aziraphale must have taken when he wasn’t paying attention. There is a set from a photobooth they’d gone into once, their silly faces and poses layered over with filters and stickers.

“Angel?”

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up expectantly. He’d worked on putting it all together, and he was hoping it had turned out as well as he thought it did.

Crowley turns slowly to the next page and a laugh bursts from him before he could even process that it was coming. There’s a slightly out of focus picture of him running across a grassy lawn followed closely behind by what appears to be a white and gray blur. The carefully written caption beside it reads, _Crowley learns not to tease the geese_. Beside it is a picture of Aziraphale who appears to be scowling up into a tree. The caption reads _Aziraphale learns that squirrels will happily steal an unattended crepe_.

“Angel, this… this is definitely a gift. And I love it, thank you.” Crowley thinks that the smile he’s shown is another gift by itself. “I know of one picture we should definitely include in here,” he adds, scooting closer to the angel and reaching for his phone.

“Which one is that?”

In one swift motion the front camera is open and Crowley is pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek, capturing his surprised expression with a click of a button. “This one. It’s perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos or a comment if you're enjoying these :D


	35. I bought two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uni/college au

“I know you like mint chocolate chip, but they were out. I went for strawberry and vanilla for you instead.”

“It’s delicious, thank you,” Aziraphale says as he takes a taste. “Should I even ask why you suddenly ran to get it though?”

“They just closed,” Crowley replies, jerking a thumb back towards the shop. “I ran so I could make it in time.”

“Oh! You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But you said you wanted ice cream, so I got you ice cream. Besides, I wan- argh!” Crowley stops, scrunching up his face with a pained expression.

“Crowley? What’s wrong?!”

“Ngk… brain freeze… but it tastes so good…”

Aziraphale snorts. He tips his head towards an empty bench and asks, “Do you want to go sit over by the fountain?”

“Absolutely. I’ll follow you.” He’s still breathing hard from sprinting, and the brain freeze isn’t helping (although he continues to lick at the twisting stripes of his ice cream), so sitting for a while sounds like a great idea. 

Aziraphale starts up his chatter again, continuing where they left off just before Crowley made a dash for the ice cream stand. Unfortunately, he’s prone to talking with his hands and one swift movement of his wrist, coupled with a not-so-tight hold on the waffle cone sends his ice cream flying right out of his hand and onto the ground. He stops in his tracks at once and stands still, eyebrows pulled together and bottom lip sticking out in a defeated pout. Crowley thinks he would laugh if Aziraphale hadn’t made the most miserable sounding “Oh,” and if he didn’t look very much like a sad child who had, well, dropped their ice cream. The two stare down at the pink and white treat melting against the gray pavement for a moment.

“Well,” Crowley says. “It’s okay, I bought two.” He offers up his own ice cream cone and frowns when Aziraphale shakes his head.

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you but I couldn’t.”

“Why? Because I licked it already? I hate to break it to you, but you’ve definitely already gotten more of my spit from us kissing than you would from having some of my ice cream.”

Aziraphale laughs and pulls him towards a bench. “No, that doesn’t bother me. I just don’t think it’d be fair of me to eat yours. Especially since you bought both of them.”

“Well I wasn’t suggesting you have all of it. Here.” He takes a bite from the top and leans over to kiss Aziraphale, leaving a smear of ice cream over both their mouths.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whines, although he’s holding back a smile. His tongue darts out to clean the mess from his lower lip and he hums. “Is that chocolate and coconut?”

“Hmm, good catch. I got german chocolate and vanilla. It’s good, right?” Crowley leans back, stretching his free hand along the bench behind Aziraphale.

After a moment of wiggling in his seat Aziraphale asks, “Can I have another taste, actually?”

Crowley smirks. “Of the ice cream? Or my tongue?” This earns him a sharp smack to the shoulder.

“The ice cream, you fiend.”


	36. After you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is supposed to be helping tidy up before a party Crowley is hosting, but he gets distracted by something he finds.

“I thought you were helping me tidy up the place, instead I find you with your nose in a novel? I should have sent you out to get the party stuff instead,” Crowley says, peeking his head into the room.

Aziraphale twists around to look at the redhead. “You write poetry?”

Crowley frowns and wills his expression to stay cool. To no avail, he ends up looking a mix of surprised and guilty. “Who, me?”

This only prompts Aziraphale to laugh. “You’re no more convincing than the lad covered in dirt who insisted he didn’t knock over your plants.” He holds up the book in his hands and Crowley sees that it is not a novel, but rather his own notebook.

“Ah. Yes. I do.” He could hardly deny it when the evidence was plainly there already. He is still for a moment before disappearing down the hallway, brought back by Aziraphale calling his name.

“Should I not have read it?” Aziraphale asks, looking guilty himself when Crowley meanders back into the room, leaning against the doorframe as though he might run off again at any second. “It was open on the desk, and I just didn’t think you would mind. I’m sorry.”

“No, no it’s alright. I don’t mind.” His eyes bounce from the floor to Aziraphale and back again. “I wasn’t expecting you to read it, is all.”

“Well they’re very good. The couple that I read, anyway. When did you start writing?”

“Oh, I first started ages ago. I have several notebooks full in fact, but all of those are from when I was younger. I’m afraid I sort of fell out of writing for a while.” He shuffles closer, hands tucked into his pockets. “I decided recently to get back into it.”

“How recently? You have quite a lot here already,” Aziraphale replies, flipping through the pages and finding nearly a third of them filled.

“After you.”

Aziraphale looks up and gives him a puzzled look. “After I what?”

“After we met, I started writing a little again. And then I really got back into it after… after our first date.” Crowley pointedly keeps his gaze elsewhere, eyes wandering the room, sweeping over every inch that was not occupied by Aziraphale. “Not all of them are about you, though. Some of them, but… you’re just a very good uh, catalyst for this sort of thing I think.”

“You flatter me, Crowley.”

“Sometimes,” he admits. “But not just now. That was only the truth.” He looks up and holds Aziraphale’s gaze.

“You’re very sweet,” Aziraphale mumbles, letting himself get lost in Crowley’s amber eyes for a minute. “Can I ask about one of these poems?”

“Ask away.”

“Do you really find it endearing when my glasses get fogged up?”

Crowley grins. “Wonderfully so, yes. Sometimes I bring you something hot while you’re reading just to make it happen.”

Aziraphale makes a disapproving noise but smiles all the same.

At the sound of the doorbell, Crowley groans. “That better not be one of our guests. Who shows up an hour early to a party? There’s still so much I need to set up and the oven isn’t even pre-heated yet…” His voice fades as he heads out the room to answer the door. Aziraphale knows he should get back to helping, but taking a minute to read another poem or two couldn’t hurt, so he does just that.

_______

‘I was sure I felt love every day  
for little things, to be sure, mundane things  
that’s what one does in life, find beauty in the trivial.  
I felt love for sun beams through my window  
for the steaming coffee in my cup  
for the smile of a stranger.  
I looked forward to them.  
Yet these little pleasures have become something else.

I think now I did not feel love, simply appreciation.  
Love is much greater, much heavier, much more consuming.

Sun beams through my window; light traveling millions of miles, coming to rest in soft golden curls. Glowing radiance, a wonder to start the day with.  
Steaming coffee in my cup; not coffee, not even my cup. Tea in the cup across from mine and steam fogging glasses, silly and endearing at once.  
The smile of a stranger; no longer a stranger although we have much to learn about each other still. I didn't care much for school but here I am, eager to learn.  
Still mundane but no longer trivial, I love these things.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates two days in a row?? It's a wonder that needing to write a paper for school instead gives me motivation to write fanfic hahaha


	37. We'll figure it out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the adrenaline of pulling one over on their respective offices, Aziraphale gets worried about what the future may hold.

“We made ourselves safe for a time but for how long-”

“Aziraphale, you-“

“—can that last? Despite the contradiction they aren’t exactly the forgiving sort and I’m sure Gabriel and the rest would only be too happy to get their hands on me after we made fools of them all-”

“Azir-“

“To say nothing of what they would do to _you_ , my dear, I refuse to even imagine. They -both of them, above and below- would be perfectly content to play the long game, waiting it out and letting us think we’ve got it all settled and good, and letting us go about our lives only to strike-” His voice raises dramatically here, which is sort of impressive given he was already nearly shouting, “-at the most inopportune time when are guards are finally down and then-“

“Angel!” Crowley’s tone turns sharp and bursts through the bubble of worry Aziraphale has been building up around himself the past several minutes. The blonde stops talking and swallows hard as Crowley removes his own sunglasses then gently takes Aziraphale’s face in his hands and meets his eyes.

“Listen to me,” Crowley says, his voice gone soft now, low and smooth. “We’ll figure it out.” He brushes a thumb across Aziraphale’s cheek and watches his pupils dilate. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Aziraphale.”

“But we don’t know what they’ll try. And what about you?”

“I won’t let anything happen to me, either,” Crowley replies with a smile.

Aziraphale’s expression doesn’t change, his gaze seems to pierce straight through Crowley’s slitted amber eyes, straight through into his very essence. “I’m serious.”  
Crowley sighs and as his smile drops from his face, his hands drop to Aziraphale’s shoulders. “So am I. We’ve been doing our thing for centuries, and a few angels and demons aren’t going to get in the way of that. Don’t you trust me by now?”

“Of course I trust you, Crowley… more than anyone. And I’ll take care of you too, to the best of my ability.”

“Hmm, my very own guardian angel?”

The corner of Aziraphale’s mouth twitches, and Crowley is determined to pull it into a full smile.

“What if my best isn’t enough?” Aziraphale is whispering now, or maybe it just seems like whispering in comparison to the volume he was at moments ago.

“I have yet to meet anyone better than you, in any aspect.” Crowley pauses. “Except dancing, but I hardly think Heaven and Hell will challenge either of us to a dance battle to decide our eternal fate.” 

Closer to a smile this time, a definite upward tug, a strain against the weight of worry holding his lips in a firm line.

“If they do though, we could demand it be the gavotte, and we’d certainly win in that case.”

“Crowley, honestly,” Aziraphale laughs, stepping back and turning his head away hide his amusement. He always seemed to be able to do this, Aziraphale realizes. Crowley has always been able to brighten him up, always able to set things right in the end. It was a comforting revelation. 

Certainly a smile there, Crowley thinks, feeling satisfied. “Honestly,” he agrees. “We’re going to be just fine, whatever happens. We’ll put together our own great plan. It’ll fit right in with Her ineffable plan, so don’t you worry about that either. Okay?”

Aziraphale gives him a soft look. “Okay. I trust you.”


	38. Can I kiss you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uni/college au

It has been 47 seconds since Aziraphale bid Crowley good night and entered his own apartment, leaving Crowley to head across the hall to his. In this 47 seconds he has just had enough time to shuck his coat and set the kettle, deciding to have a nice cup of chamomile before heading to bed. There is a knock at the door, and Aziraphale peers through the peephole to see Crowley standing there, hands in his pockets and looking rather sheepish.

“Miss me already? I had no idea you’d gotten so clingy,” Aziraphale teases when he swings the door open for him.

“I left my keys inside and none of my roommates are in right now,” Crowley explains at once. “D’you think I could stay-” A soft hand is taking his own and tugging him inside before he even finishes the question.

“Would you like some tea?” 

“Ah, sure, thank you. And thanks for having me in, I won’t be any bother. I can go as soon as one of my roommates gets back.”

“There’s no need for that, unless you’d prefer to go back. I thought you could just, hm, spend the night?”

“Oh.” Crowley blinks. “Actually, in that case, if I could bother you for an extra blanket to put on your sofa?”

Aziraphale turns and fixes him with a stare. “The sofa? What kind of host would I be to put you on that old thing? No, you take the bed. I just changed the sheets this morning anyway.”

“What kind of guest would I be to let you take the sofa?” Crowley counters. “No, I insist.”

Aziraphale makes a dissatisfied noise and shakes his head. “A compromise, then.”

“Meaning?”

“We share the bed.”

Crowley stares the at back of Aziraphale’s head – he’s turned away from the redhead, pouring the tea – and tries to come up with a cool and casual response. What comes out instead is an unintelligible noise that gives Aziraphale pause. He turns to hand him a mug and carefully avoids looking at his face.

“Unless you’d prefer not to, which is perfectly fine too. I didn’t mean to be-”

It’s Crowley’s turn to interrupt and he takes the mug with one hand, cupping Aziraphale’s cheek with the other and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “That sounds like a perfect compromise.”

They drink their tea and Crowley tries not to overthink what it means to share a bed, which of course means it’s the only thing he can think about. The quiet intimacy of it, to lay next to someone and be at ease, to be vulnerable. What if he wakes up before Aziraphale the next morning? Should he quietly slip out and back to his own apartment, or would that be rude? Wouldn’t it be rude to wake him too, to risk unnecessarily pulling him from a particularly lovely dream?

The sound of his own name being called breaks his train of thought and looks up to see Aziraphale looking at him curiously.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“Y-yes. Sorry, just… just tired I suppose.”

“Mm, of course, it is late. I hardly think my pajamas will fit you, but you can take one of my shirts at least. And I’m sure I have an extra toothbrush you can use and…”

Crowley half zones out again, following Aziraphale down the hallway to his bedroom to get ready to sleep. He wiggles out of his jeans and changes into the shirt he was handed while Aziraphale washes up. The shirt is loose and soft and Crowley pulls the neckline of it up to his nose and breathes deep. He silently decides he’ll probably steal this shirt for himself to sleep in regularly.

When Aziraphale steps out of the bathroom clad in his own set of pajamas, Crowley is sitting on the end of the bed and his expression brightens at once.

“I wasn’t sure which side of the bed you usually sleep on, so…” He shrugs.

“How thoughtful,” Aziraphale hums. “I generally use the right side.”

They turn down the covers and settle against the pillows, facing each other. Crowley is reminded that the sheets are freshly changed when he notices that they smell the same as his tshirt.

“Comfortable?” Aziraphale asks.

“Absolutely,” Crowley says. “Can I kiss you?”

Aziraphale blinks at him and giggles. “What makes you think you need to ask? We’ve kissed so many times already.”

“Sure, but never while laying in bed together. Seems a little different, thought I should check.”

Aziraphale’s expression goes serious and he bites at his lower lip. “Right… Um. Can we talk for a minute?” He sits up, shuffling back to lean against the headboard.

Crowley frowns and follows suit. “Of course. Should I not- Is something wrong?”

“No, I just um, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about this. Asking you to share the bed I mean. Uh.” His hands clench and unclench against the bedsheets. “Uh, well, I’m asexual.” He takes a glance at Crowley’s expression and finds him looking puzzled.

“I’m confused,” Crowley says slowly.

“Right. That’s okay. Um. So, asexuality means that I-”

“No, I know what it means but… you already told me this.”

Now Aziraphale is the one to look puzzled. “What? No I haven’t.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow at him. “You sure did. Like… two weeks ago? When we came back from Bel’s party.”

“I- What? How? What?” Aziraphale thinks back to that night and finds his memory has more gaps than he’d like. The fact that he drank quite a lot doesn’t escape his memory though. “What did I say? What did you say?”

“You told me about how while we were there Gabriel was hitting on you and had invited you upstairs, and I joked that it was good you didn’t go with him because I’ve heard he’s not very good in bed anyway.” Crowley searches Aziraphale’s face for a sign that he remembers this. “And then you said it wouldn’t matter even if he was good, because he’s a jerk and also you’re ace.”

Aziraphale stares. “That’s what I said? how I told you?”

Crowley can’t help but laugh a little. “Yep,” he replies. “And uh, I think after that we just moved on and talked about… Oh! We talked about that awful outfit Sandalphon was wearing.”

Aziraphale makes a face and groans. “Unfortunately, I do remember that. How could anyone forget those patterns?” He shudders and laughs, leaning over slightly to bump shoulders with Crowley. “But seriously, I told you and… that was it? You’re okay with it?” 

“Of course I’m okay with it.” Crowley reaches over and takes one of Aziraphale’s hands, giving it a squeeze. “I like you exactly as you are. And I wouldn’t want to do anything you don’t want to do too.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, and it comes out as a sigh, a breath he hadn’t quite realized he’d been holding. “That was um, easier than I thought it was going to be. Thanks.”

“So we’re all good? Anything else to talk about?”

“Ah, that’s all. We can sleep now. But, would you kiss me first?”

Crowley grins and leans close by way of reply, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “How’s that?”

“A little more.” 

He scoffs and turns to face him better, settling one hand at the back of his neck and kissing him deeply. “Better?”

“Perfect. Can you do one more thing for me though?”

“What’s that?” Crowley asks, shuffling back down beneath the sheets.

“Would you be the little spoon?”

“Mm, only if you promise not to steal all the blankets in the middle of the night.”

“As much as I’d like to, I couldn’t possibly promise that.”

Crowley rolls over to be the little spoon anyway. He can’t even pretend to be put off by the request.

In the morning, he doesn’t have to make a decision about whether he should wake Aziraphale or slip out unnoticed because the blonde is already up and out of bed, much to Crowley’s disappointment. His side of the bed is still warm though, suggesting he hasn’t been gone very long.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley calls, not moving from where he is curled up, blankets pulled up to his nose.

Approaching footsteps can be heard a moment later, followed by his appearance in the room. “Crowley? Is something wrong?”

“Ngk. Yes.” He shifts so his whole face is uncovered. “I dutifully played the little spoon, and didn’t earn so much as a morning cuddle?”

Aziraphale’s look of concern melts into an amused one. “Mm, a terrible oversight on my part,” he replies. “Let me fix that right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely one of the longer chapters so far, if not /the/ longest.  
> I'd love to hear what you think, leave me a comment!! <3


	39. I like your laugh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> human AU

“That’s why I can’t look at ducks the same ever again,” Crowley says gravely.

Aziraphale is laughing, loud and boisterous, clutching at his side. It’s not until a snort escapes his mouth that he seems to remember himself, covering his face in an attempt to stifle the noise and turning his head away from Crowley.

“You know,” the redhead says, who has noticed this behavior occurring more than once. “I like your laugh.”

Aziraphale shakes his head and waits a second to calm himself down before turning towards him again. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Of course I don’t, but I thought you should know. That restrained laugh you do is all well and good, but your real laugh? Comparable to an angelic choir.”

Giving Crowley playful shove, Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “I highly doubt that angelic choirs sound like snorting pigs.”

Crowley grins and props his head up with one hand. “I’m serious though, I do like your laugh. You sound so free, like you’re really having a good time. Your other laugh doesn’t quite have the same effect on you.”

“My real laugh sounds ridiculous. I used to get made fun of for it, when I was younger. That’s why I started trying to laugh differently,” Aziraphale admits, sounding embarrassed to be sharing this detail.

“Well screw those people,” Crowley says from a frown. “Something like a laugh – an expression of you being happy – can’t be ridiculous. Different maybe, but that’s fine. That’s good.”

“I don’t want to be different. Nobody wants to be different, Crowley.” Aziraphale rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“I quite like that you’re different. I like that once your hot chocolate has gone cold because you forgot about it, you drink it like that anyway instead of heating it up again. I like that you read multiple books at the same time and manage to keep it all straight. I like that you like me. I like that your laugh is loud and noticeable. Lots of different things about you that I appreciate.”

Aziraphale pulls at the blankets as he moves to lay on his side again and face Crowley. “I don’t think there’s anything ‘different’ about me liking you. You’re very likeable,” he says at last.

“I’m sure there are plenty that would disagree, but thank you for that boost to my ego,” Crowley teases. “In all seriousness though, I think you should feel free to laugh your real laugh.”

“Maybe… Just around you. Since you don’t hate it.”

Crowley stretches an arm to curl around Aziraphale’s side. “That’s a fair start. Any chance I’ll get to hear it again tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale hums, a cheeky smile playing onto his face. “Do you think you can come up with something funny enough to make me laugh?”

Crowley eyes go wide and he gasps dramatically. “Are you saying I’m not funny? Is that it?” 

Aziraphale’s growing smile is enough of an answer.

“Well,” Crowley says, a teasing smile of his own starting to appear. “How about this?” He slides his hand down toward the hem of Aziraphale’s shirt, and the blonde realizes a second too late what’s about to happen.

“Crowley, no! I-” His protest is cut short by a bursting fit of giggles, squirming against the sheets as Crowley tickles him mercilessly, ceasing only as Aziraphale manages to slip free and immediately wiggles his way off the bed, just out of reach.

“I’m going to get you for that,” Aziraphale says dangerously, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“Oho, I bet you will.”


	40. Don't cry.

It’s a yearly occurrence, Aziraphale knows. The temperature starts to dip and the sun goes down earlier and Crowley’s mood sinks too. Seasonal depression starting to creep in. The redhead starts to arrive at the bookshop later and later, having overslept their usual meeting time despite going to bed earlier than normal too. His smiles and laughter are a little less genuine, a little less bright. His already meager appetite diminishes into something almost nonexistent.

The last time they went out for lunch Crowley did little more than push his food around for a minute before sliding his plate towards Aziraphale. He hadn’t touched the appetizers either, even though salmon tartare was one of his favorites and he was the one who’d ordered it.

Aziraphale knows it will get better. It always does, and before you know it Crowley is back to his usual devious self, changed only in that he’s wearing more layers in an effort to combat the cold. Until then, Aziraphale decides, he’ll try to make the seasonal shift a little easier for him.

\-------

“What’s all this?” Crowley asks, stopping short as soon as he enters the living room. 

The coffee table is covered in several different kinds of food, just a little of each thing. The TV is on, an episode of Golden Girls playing, and stacked on top of the bulky and ancient piece of technology (yet it had a picture as good as any brand new TV) is a set of DVDs which Crowley is certain Aziraphale didn’t have any copies of before. Spy Kids and Mouse Hunt were hardly to his taste.

“Just a little something different. I thought we could have a night in,” Aziraphale replies.

“All this is enough for several nights, angel,” Crowley says, moving some pillows on the couch aside to make room to sit down. Are the pillows new too? And there are normally two blankets on this couch, now there are four. Crowley pulls his sunglasses off. He starts to set them on the table then realizes the surface is already crowded enough with dishes that he tucks them into his coat instead. “And I don’t see any of your favorite foods here.”

Aziraphale pretends he doesn’t hear that last comment and settles down beside the demon on the couch and pulls a blanket across both their laps. Aziraphale won’t say outright that he set this up specifically for Crowley. Deny it as he may, the demon was keen to please, and having things done to please him sometimes made him… a little uncomfortable, unsure how to accept it. “As cold out as it’s starting to get, staying in for a while sounds nice, don’t you think?”

An uncertain hum is made in response but Crowley scoots closer so they are shoulder to shoulder.

He shakes his head at the first piece of food Aziraphale offers him, but gives in to eating a grape when the angel holds it up to his mouth. And so it goes. He still doesn’t each much, but he eats – a small piece of this, a half-bite of that. It’s better than nothing and it’s enough to satisfy Aziraphale for the time being.

\-------

The end credits of Mamma Mia are playing. The dishes on the coffee table are mostly empty. Crowley has his head nestled in Aziraphale’s lap and is contentedly cosplaying a burrito composed of two thick blankets and a demon. He turns onto his back – no easy feat since the bulky blankets are really restricting his movement – and looks up at Aziraphale.

“This was very nice of you.” He speaks low, barely audible over the music coming from the television. “I know I haven’t been myself lately, I’ve just been feeling… bleh.” He sticks out his tongue on the last word, letting his eyes drop, gaze settling no where in particular. “So, you setting this up for me is…”

“Don’t cry,” Aziraphale murmurs, watching as tears start to well up in his eyes. “You’re going to get the blanket all soggy,” he adds, teasing.

“’M not crying,” Crowley cries. “It’s jus’ the,” he waves a hand vaguely. “The… something in my eye.” He sniffles, shifts again so his face is pressed against Aziraphale’s belly instead.

The angel cards his fingers through Crowley’s hair soothingly working out a few tangles, blunt nails scratching gently against his head.

Crowley peeks up again after a moment, eyes dry again. “But really… thanks.”

“Anything for you, my dear. I’m glad it helped.”


	41. I made this for you.

Aziraphale hardly looks up when he hears the soft swish of grass being walked through. “You’re not making my job any easier, you know,” he says. “There’s a gravel path for a reason.” 

What few scraps of sunlight manage to filter through the tree leaves and down onto the page of his book are suddenly blocked. Aziraphale twists to look back, smiling up at Crowley and patting the empty space on the bench beside him. The demon would have sat even without the invitation – they meet there, at the picnic bench beneath the tree, nearly every day after all – but he murmurs a quiet thanks anyway as he settles down.

“I could slip in that gravel,” Crowley replies, ignoring that the grass could be just as much as a hassle, the ground going soft if too saturated by rain.

“You could change out of heels when you head up here, dear.”

“And ruin the outfit?” Crowley looks aghast that the thought even crossed the angel’s mind. “I think not.”

“Mmm. How was your day? You had Warlock doing some arts and crafts it seems,” Aziraphale says, pulling a colorful folded card from the inside of his coat.

The lettering on the front is all wobbly and some of them are even flipped around backwards, but the message is clear, reinforced by the crudely drawn balloons, and cake littered with candles. The inside contains more drawings. A butterfly, some flowers, what Aziraphale thinks might be a snail. It is signed ‘Love, Warlock.’

“Ah, yes. Lucky for you, I kept him away from the glitter at least. Why he thought today’s your birthday, I couldn’t say, but he was insistent on making something for you.” Crowley adjusts his sunglasses.

Aziraphale smiles warmly at the card and tucks it back into his jacket. “I believe he asked me when it was, a few weeks back. I made one up, could have been today, but I don’t see why he would remember.”

“He’s awfully fond of you,” Crowley hums. “Not as much as me, of course.”

“Oh? Are you that fond of me?”

A blush heats Crowley’s face immediately and chokes on the air in his throat. “I-I- No, what I meant- I was saying that Warlock-“

“I know, dear,” Aziraphale says sympathetically, gently patting the demon’s knee and giving him a wry smile. “I’m only teasing. It’s reasonable he would be more fond of you, he spends more time with you.” Aziraphale gives a little wiggle, and a small, proud smile graces his lips. “Although if he’s making me a birthday card, clearly I’ve been doing my job of influencing him to be good.”

“Oh, don’t say that because I-“ Crowley grumbles and slides something across the wooden table towards Aziraphale, looking off into the gardens as he does, like it will distance him from the act somehow. “I made this for you.”

Blinking down at the card, Aziraphale picks it up gingerly, afraid it will disintegrate before his very eyes if he’s too rough with it. ‘Happy Birthday’ is written in a much neater script, a messy but colorful sketch of a bouquet of flowers placed beneath the words. The inside reads, ‘Aziraphale, I wish you many more years, filled with good wine and good food and good books.’

The angel peeks over at Crowley who is fidgeting with his skirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “You made me a card too?” He asks softly.

Crowley sniffs. “I always do arts and crafts with Warlock,” he said simply. “Anyway, can I tempt you out for a birthday dinner? I have the night off.”

“Well, I couldn’t say no to some good wine and good food,” he says, moving to stand and gathering his book from the table, careful not to bend the card still in his hand.

In fact, he holds the card all the way through their walk to the Bentley, at which point Crowley murmurs to him, “You don’t have to keep it, you know. The card. It’s not even really your birthday.”

“Even so, it’s very nice.”

“Not nice,” Crowley mumbles, starting the car. 

Aziraphale pretends not to hear this. He also pretends not to notice Crowley’s small, satisfied smile when Aziraphale tucks the card into his jacket to keep.  
Crowley miracles himself into his usual attire of too-tight jeans and a dark shirt, and they go out for dinner. Both the wine and the food are wonderful, but Aziraphale thinks to himself that the company is the best part of the evening. They aren’t as often able to spend time together like this anymore, much of their days and nights being devoted to keeping up appearances and influencing the (supposed) antichrist.

When they part ways at the end of the night, Aziraphale is sure for a moment that Crowley has something he wants to say. He shuffles his feet and fixes the angel with a serious look before shaking his head, breaking into a smile and simply bidding him good night with a wave before he drives off.

Once inside his little flat, Aziraphale removes his jacket and the cards inside, looking around the room for somewhere safe to keep them. He is propping them up on a shelf when something catches his eye. The backside of Crowley’s card.

He hadn’t even thought to turn it over earlier, but there is another drawing there. A single rose, more detailed than the bouquet on the front though left in black and white. And in the bottom corner, in careful cursive, ‘Always yours, Crowley.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my goal is to write and post up through prompt 45 by the end of the month... wish me luck with that on top of uni deadlines😅
> 
> as always, please leave kudos/comments if you liked this! they really mean a lot to me :)


	42. Go back to sleep.

They board the bus to Oxford, which is now going to head to London instead although the driver wouldn’t quite be able to tell you why.

Crowley sits first, taking the window seat. He leans his head against it and looks out into the night. A hand brushes gently against his own, then grasps it softly, fingers intertwining. He doesn’t dare look, lest Aziraphale should realize his mistake. It must be a mistake? They’ve never held hands. Well, Crowley corrects himself. They have. Just not like this.

There was once, early into the 1600s. Aziraphale was a little drunk, having had not only several grapes but their fermented liquid counterpart as well. He went to stand, moving more quickly than he should have, and wobbled, threatening to fall over entirely. One hand shot out, finding purchase in Crowley’s hand and tightening there to steady himself. Crowley only remarked that he should be careful. There were more than a few people around who would be more than happy for Aziraphale to fall into their arms instead. Aziraphale had a suspicion that Crowley was referring to Shakespeare, whom the demon had been a tad unfriendly with ever since he’d gifted the angel a sonnet.

There was once, shortly after the opening of the bookshop. Crowley entered, spotting a box of chocolates on the desk – half eaten already – but no sign of the angel. He followed the sound of shuffling in the stacks to find him on a step stool and standing on the tips of his toes besides, reaching for something on the very top shelf. Crowley offered a hand to help him down when he was finished, and if he held on just a little longer than necessary, neither of them mentioned it.

There was once, in the 1990’s. They had some business to attend to in a club that was rather different from the gentleman’s club Aziraphale had been a regular patron of years prior. Crowley felt at ease having been there once or twice himself, and he knew that despite Aziraphale’s soft appearance, the angel was perfectly capable of handling any situation that should arise – unwanted flirting included. Crowley did not expect this particular issue to be handled by the angel taking his hand the moment they entered. When questioned about it later, Aziraphale insisted it was only a tactic to stave off any potential advances by the other clubgoers. Crowley found this excuse flimsy, but kept that thought to himself – it wasn’t as if he’d minded after all.

There was once, just earlier that day. Sort of. If pressed on the matter Crowley would concede they were not directly holding hands so it didn’t count, but he wanted it to count. They were connected to each other by hands and that’s what matters, regardless of if it was the hand of the young antichrist in his own, with Aziraphale on the other side.

Crowley comes back to reality with a shake of his head, groaning softly and realizing he fell asleep leaning against the window. He rubs his neck with his free hand. His free hand. He chances a peek down and to the right and sees his hand still occupied by Aziraphale’s, and pulled to rest on the angel’s thigh no less. He makes another soft noise and hears Aziraphale scoff.

“Sore neck? I’m not surprised, sleeping against the window like that. Can’t be comfortable.” He rearranges them and Crowley finds himself angled away from the window, head against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep,” Aziraphale says as if that were a perfectly natural position for them. “I’ll wake you when we get there, though I don’t think it’s very far now.”

Crowley gives a soft murmur of assent, but does his best not to go back to sleep. He tries to memorize all the little details of the situation. The feel of Aziraphale’s coat against his cheek. The subtle smell of lavender and ozone that seems to waft from him (Crowley has long been able to recognize this particular fragrance as belonging to Aziraphale, but he’s never experienced it this close). The gentle rise and fall of his shoulder as he breathes. The warmth of their palms pressed together and the sensation of a thumb slowly rubbing back and forth across the top of his own. Crowley tries not to fall back asleep, but he does.

The next thing he knows, he is being shaken gently, a kind voice urging him to get up. They are still holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the next couple chapters nearly finished, so expect more updates soon! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for the kind comments!


	43. Is this okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> relating to chapter 34

“Have you seen that scrapbook of ours?” Aziraphale calls out. “I think the pictures from our trip to Spain would make a nice page in it.”

“Funny you should mention, could you come here a moment?” Crowley replies.

Aziraphale follows the sound of Crowley’s voice to the living room and finds that his coffee table is mostly cleared of its usual clutter (books and mugs and loose papers) and replaced with a different set of clutter (paints and glitter and different loose papers). At the center of it is their scrapbook, its cover no longer a blank plane.

“Is this okay?” Crowley asks, trying to guess Aziraphale’s thoughts from his expression alone and not having much luck. “If you don’t like it I can always change it you know, just paint over it or something. I could do something with fabric, or anything really, if you’d like that better.”

The angel steps forward to get a closer look and hums quietly. “It’s beautiful.”

The cover features a set of painted feathers, one white and one black, against a glittering soft gray background. ‘To the World’ is written in a careful, golden script with a little halo drawn over the first ‘o’ and a set of horns and a tail drawn onto the second.

“You’re sure? I thought it turned out nicely, but maybe you were hoping for something different? It clearly represents us, but I’m not sure if it works so well as a scrapbook cover, so if you want-” Crowley goes quiet as a kiss is laid on his cheek.

“I’m sure,” Aziraphale says warmly. “I think it definitely works as a scrapbook cover, and it definitely says us.”

“Good. Right, yeah, good.” The demon visibly relaxes, tension dropping from his shoulders.

“Is it all dry? Could we add to the inside?” Aziraphale asks, waving the set of photos in his hand.

“It’s good to go. And by the way,” Crowley adds, holding up a finger in warning. “We are not including that picture you took of me falling into the fountain.”

Aziraphale pouts, glancing down at this very photo in his hands. In it, Crowley's arms are flailing, desperately trying to regain his balance as he walks along the edge of the fountain, but from the angle he's tipped over at, it's evident he's just about to fall in. Aziraphale moves the photo to the back of the stack and grins at the next one, holding it up for Crowley to see. "How about this one?"

Crowley leans in to see that it's a picture of him climbing out of the fountain, glasses knocked askew on his face, hair plastered against his head, shirt clinging to his body even more tightly. He makes a face and shakes his head at the angel. "Absolutely not!"


	44. I picked these for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SD Cottage

One morning Aziraphale wakes from an exceptionally good sleep and rolls to one side, slinging his arm out to drape over his partner. Except that his arm instead lands on empty space. The angel half opens one eye to find that the other half of the bed is indeed empty save for some rumpled sheets. It’s very unusual, given that Crowley is nearly always the one to sleep in late, burying himself beneath the covers and bemoaning the rising sun for disturbing him.

Aziraphale lays there a while longer, straining his ears for any evidence that Crowley might be in the kitchen making breakfast for them, or perhaps simply lounging in the living room listening to music (bebop, no doubt, though Aziraphale is slowly becoming more welcoming of new age tunes). He hears nothing.

He is not really worried that anything has happened, but he fights the urge to close his eyes and drift back to sleep in favor of sliding out of bed, pulling on a shirt, and trudging out to see where the demon might have gone off to. It does not take long to find him. In fact it’s more that Crowley finds Aziraphale, sauntering in through the back door with a smile on his face and dirt clinging to his hands. His sunglasses are no where to be seen, and Aziraphale is certain his eyes look more golden than usual, though perhaps it’s just an effect of the morning light coming in behind him.

“Good morning! Perfect timing, I don’t suppose you know where the vases are?” Crowley asks. He adds after a moment, “I picked these for you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes drop from Crowley’s to the bunch of sunflowers in his hand.

“They were getting too tall for their own good truthfully, and I thought you might like to have them inside. Bring some color to the room.”

There is a long silence. “Did you wake up early to… pick me some flowers?”

“No,” comes the reply after an unconvincing pause. “I woke up early so I could garden before it got too hot. I just so happened to pick you some flowers too. Now, are you going to take these from me or shall I throw them at you? I still have some things out back to finish up and I don’t want to get dirt all over the floor here just yet.”

Aziraphale reaches out and takes them from him, and moments later find a vase that just so happens to be the perfect size and shape to hold them. 

Crowley has been growing flowers in his garden practically since the moment they moved into the cottage, but it was the first time he’d picked any flowers and brought them in for Aziraphale, so the angel was sure to take care of them. Checking how much water they have, moving them towards or away from the window to get sun but not too much heat, murmuring soft encouragements to them. Aziraphale has never had much luck taking care of plants before, but he was certain he could keep these looking fresh for at least a few days.

The flowers are moved from place to place over the next couple weeks, sometimes sitting on the kitchen island, sometimes on the dresser in their bedroom, sometimes on the coffee table in the living room. Despite no longer having any roots to sustain them, they stand up exceptionally well, not showing the slightest sign of drooping or browning. Aziraphale is overwhelmingly pleased by this, proud that he’s been able to care for them more than sufficiently.

It turns out that Crowley checks on them too, when Aziraphale isn’t around. Until one time he is. The blonde rounds a corner, and quickly ducks back behind it when he spots Crowley leaning close to the flowers. He realizes with a start that it must not be his own ministrations, but Crowley’s that have the flowers maintaining such a good condition. He listens in, curious what threats the demon could be doling out that have managed to have such an effect.

Instead, he hears quiet praise. And not just about the flowers.

Aziraphale hears Crowley compliment them gently on their vibrant colors. He hears him compliment them on how they are keeping their heads held high. He hears him thank them. For being something for Aziraphale to take care of for a bit.

Crowley sighs and sets his elbow against the counter, holding his head up in his palm. “He’s so sweet, isn’t he? I knew he would take care of you like this, plenty of attention. He’s generous like that. Kind.” He brushes the tip of his finger across the edge of a petal. “And his smile, oh. He always smiles when he checks on you. As bright and warm as the sun.”

The flowers shuffle.

“Alright well, I didn’t mean literally. It would be problematic if that was literal I meant – you know what I meant.”

Another soft rustling of leaves.

“Of course. I couldn’t expect you to last forever. Thank you for doing well this long, I think you’ve made him happy. And that makes me happy.” Crowley stands, and Aziraphale ducks back behind the wall before he can be spotted and called out for eavesdropping. He’d been expecting to be disappointed – to find out that his diligence wasn’t what was keeping the flowers in good shape after all – instead he can’t keep himself from smiling.

Later that day when Crowley asks what’s got him in such a bright mood, Aziraphale grins and says “Thank you for the flowers.”


	45. I'll drive you to the hospital.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SD Cottage

Two mugs sit on the table, steam rising despite having been sitting there for nearly an hour already, ignored or forgotten by the beings sitting at either end of the sofa. The television is playing a cheesy romcom. Aziraphale is only half listening to it, more immersed in the book he’s reading. Crowley on the other hand, is fully invested in the story.

When the main couple of the movie share a gentle but passionate kiss in a park, Crowley turns to Aziraphale and asks, “Why don’t you kiss me like that in public?”  
Aziraphale glances up at the screen, makes a face, and shakes his head. This earns him a whine and a pair of feet prodding at his thigh.

“Why not?” Crowley presses. “Don’t you like me?”

“Not a bit,” Aziraphale deadpans, looking over at Crowley from the corner of his eye.

Crowley clutches at his chest and makes a grunt as if he’s in pain. “You wound me, Aziraphale. After all this time together?” He sits up a little straighter. “Was it ever real between us?”

The angel turns his head and catches the sparkle of mischief in Crowley’s eyes. “I guess the truth must come out sometime,” Aziraphale says, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “I’ve been using you. For the free food. And the cuddles.”

Crowley gasps as he slumps back heavily leaning to one side. “My heart!” He cries out. “You- You’ve broken it. Oh! How will I survive this heartache… This just might be the end of me.”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Aziraphale says, swallowing his laughter at Crowley’s dramatics.

Crowley frowns, tipping his head up to eye the angel and breaking the ruse for a moment. “You can’t even drive.”

“A little miracle would solve that.”

Crowley falls back into the game and waves him off. “No, a hospital could do nothing for this sort of ailment. Only one thing can save me." He pauses.

“And what might that be?” Aziraphale asks patiently, with a feeling that he knew exactly where Crowley was going with this.

“It must be… true love’s kiss!” He exclaims, throwing his arms out wildly before closing his eyes and laying limp against the end of the sofa, one hand returned to resting on his chest.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale murmurs. “True love you say? I guess there’s no hope for you then.”

Without opening his eyes, Crowley aims a playful kick at Aziraphale’s shins.

“Alright, alright,” Aziraphale laughs, setting his book aside and moving to kneel on the carpet beside the sofa. “I’m terribly sorry for breaking your heart, my love. It wasn’t true at all, I like you very much.”

Crowley’s eyelids flutter but remain shut, and he says nothing. Aziraphale presses a chaste kiss to his lips and dramatically sighs in relief when Crowley stirs.

“Aziraphale?” He croaks, opening his eyes just slightly. Aziraphale can hardly even see his pupils, only a crescent of gold.

“Yes, dear?”

“You love me.” Not a question, a statement. He manages to sound like he really was on the brink of disaster, voice gone rough but tinged with affection.

“Yes, dear.” He brushes the hair away from Crowley’s face and presses another gentle kiss to his forehead. “I hope you never truly doubt it.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Mmm?”

“Why _don’t_ you kiss me as much when we’re out and about?” He sounds so earnest that Aziraphale is a little taken aback and the angel scans his face for signs of any real hurt or concern, relaxing a little when he finds none.

“It… just feels different to me, I guess. When there could be people watching,” Aziraphale says slowly. He’d never really thought about it, never realized he was different at home and away. But now he is thinking about it. 

At home he might kiss Crowley when he enters the room and when he leaves it, when they pass each other in the hallway he catches the demon by the wrist to press his lips there, when they are in the middle of making dinner he kisses his nose before handing over the seasonings, when they are in the middle of watching a movie he might lean over and press a kiss to his shoulder just because he feels like doing it. Yet when they are out, he’ll hardly initiate a kiss on the cheek.

“Does- does that bother you? It’s not that I _mind_ people seeing us together or anything.” He takes Crowley’s hand and squeezes gently. 

Crowley shakes his head as he sees the worry building up on Aziraphale’s face. “I was just curious. Wanted to make sure it didn’t bother you since I do it sometimes.”

And now that Aziraphale is thinking about that too, he realizes that he and Crowley are opposites in that regard. The demon is possibly more affectionate when they are out – in terms of small touches anyway.

At home he is happy to leave space between them, sitting at the far end of the couch from Aziraphale so he can sprawl his limbs in all directions. Yet when they are out for a meal he leans across the table towards him and pecks at his lips as they stand to leave, when they are settled on the bench tossing bits of corn or lettuce to the ducks he sits close enough for their thighs to press together and turns his head to kiss his cheek, when they’re standing at a corner waiting for the crossing light to change he curls his arm around the angel’s waist and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Not at all,” Aziraphale assures him, climbing back onto the sofa and pulling Crowley’s legs to drape over his lap. “But you’ll tell me if you’d like more from me, when we’re out?”

“Sure. And you’ll tell me if I’m doing too much?”

“Sure.” They beam at each other and Aziraphale pats Crowley’s leg. “Now, shall I rewind the movie for you?”

“You don’t have to, I’ve seen this one before anyway.”


	46. What do you want to watch?

“You’re not very interested in this, are you?” Crowley asks, looking over at Aziraphale for the fifth time in as many minutes. Not once has the angel even been pretending to watch the television, despite him usually liking baking shows.

“It’s fine,” Aziraphale replies with a noncommittal shrug.

Crowley reaches for the television remote and holds it out to the angel. “What do you want to watch?”

Aziraphale makes no move to take the remote from him, doesn’t so much as look down to acknowledge it. He keeps his eyes trained on Crowley and says simply, “You.”

The tips of Crowley’s ears turn a shade of red nearly matching his hair. “M-me?” He pulls his arm back and sets the remote down. “I imagine that wouldn’t be very interesting.”

“Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.” Aziraphale pulls one knee to his chest and props his head up with one hand. “You’ve been perfectly lovely to look at for the past hour, and I don’t really see that changing all of a sudden.”

The past hour? Has he been watching him all this time? Crowley’s cheeks take on a pink coloring and the embarrassment flooding him makes him wish he hadn’t said anything to begin with. 

“But I’m just… I’m just me.” Sure, he had a certain style that he liked to upkeep, a certain level of flair that was just part of his normal routine. He knew he looked good – or at the very least eye-catching, but that was by human standards. Human strangers. He didn’t imagine his appearance would be of that much interest to an angel, to someone who’s known him for 6000 years, to his closest friend. And certainly not when he was doing nothing more than lazing against a worn out sofa, drinking coffee, and watching people try to bake and decorate masterpieces when they were clearly far from qualified.

“Exactly,” Aziraphale says with a sigh. “Just you. Not trying to be cool, or to pose a certain way, or give off a certain impression.” He sighs again. “Sometimes when we’re out, I can tell you’re acting a little. For the benefit of anyone around us, I suppose. But here, you’re actually you.”

Crowley watches as one of the contestants frantically sticks jelly beans around the base of their cake as the countdown to the end of the round ticks towards zero. Looking at Aziraphale is a little too much to handle. The angel is a just a little too perceptive right now and Crowley feels as if he’d be able to gaze straight through his sunglasses and deep into his soul. “And what do I look like? When I’m just being me.”

“You look beautiful,” Aziraphale answers after a pause. “More relaxed. There’s not so many lines on your face, your shoulders seem looser.” He tips his head slightly, getting a slightly different angle of view. “Hm, the sunlight behind you highlights your hair. It’s not just red, it’s scarlet and gold.”

“You look happy,” Aziraphale continues. “Every smile lights up your whole face. And did you know you laugh with your whole body? It’s sweet.”

The demon isn’t watching the show anymore but he still can’t bring himself to look at Aziraphale, which is a problem solved when Aziraphale slides closer and urges him to turn his head with a gentle caress of his cheek. The sunglasses are pushed up and away from his eyes and Crowley now feels not just embarrassed by the praise but vulnerable too. Nothing to hide his expression, to obscure where he is looking. He can’t look anywhere other than Aziraphale now, caught up in blue eyes that seem to look right through him in the most tender way.

“You look,” Aziraphale murmurs, inches away from Crowley’s face. “You look like someone I could watch forever. Like someone I want to be with forever.”

Every word in every language Crowley has learned is gone in that instant. He flounders for a coherent response but nothing seems appropriate, nothing conveys the right type or magnitude of emotion he is experiencing and in the only sound he is able to form is “Ngk,” and then he’s holding Aziraphale close and kissing him as sweetly as he can, just soft lips and slow breaths.

“Forever is a long time,” he murmurs when they part.

Aziraphale skims a finger across his cheek. “I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit my goal with a few days to spare?! Heck yeah!!
> 
> I had Nailed It! playing in the background while I wrote this chapter, so that's what they ended up watching too hahaha


	47. You can go first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU

“I know we were planning on getting back tonight,” Crowley begins, “But would you hate it if we stopped off and found somewhere to stay instead?” A sharp twist of lightning flashes, illuminating the sky for an instant and a crash of thunder rolls through the air hardly a second later. “I love driving, but this is really not ideal. I’d hate for us to get into an accident because I can’t see.” The rain is coming down in a torrent, the windshield wipers of the Bentley swishing frantically to keep the road visible but it isn’t doing much good, and the lack of lighting along the street doesn’t help.

“I think that’s for the best, we can stop at whatever place we find first,” Aziraphale agrees, squinting through the window in search of a sign proclaiming some kind of hotel.

They do indeed stop at the first motel they find, eager to get off the road. It’s a small place, a far cry from any sort of luxury but it’s safe and dry and that’s really all they’re looking for. The receptionist warns them that there have been a few issues with the water heater.

The room is cozy enough, one bed in the center of the room and a desk and chair in the corner. Crowley and Aziraphale strip down out of their soaking wet coats as soon as they’re inside. It had been a short walk (run) from the car to the building, but the rain was hard enough to drench them even in such a short amount of time.

“You can go first,” Crowley says, earning a questioning look from the blonde. “For a shower,” he elaborates. “I don’t want to take up all the hot water before you can get in there.”

“Oh, no! You go ahead, please. You’ve been driving, you’re tired. You can get to bed quicker if you go first.”

Crowley fixes him with a look. “Angel, you know I take a long time. Please, go on.”

Aziraphale bites his lower lip and remembers that yes, Crowley has been known to take upwards of thirty minutes in the shower- twenty of that easily attributed to getting lost in daydreams. He nods once. “Fine. But I’ll be quick.”

He’s very quick, and Crowley would almost have thought he was only in the shower long enough to get wet if it wasn’t for the faint smell of soap that clings to him. 

“Still raining out there?” Aziraphale asks, glancing towards the window.

“Cats and dogs,” Crowley replies. “And it doesn’t seem like it’ll be stopping any time soon. But at least it’s nice and warm in here.”

“Mmm. There should be hot water for you, it was still nice when I got out.”

“Perfect.” Crowley presses a soft kiss to lips as he steps past. “No need to stay up, I know you must be tired too.”

Aziraphale stays up anyway. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard when Crowley slips out of the bathroom. “I’m impressed,” he says. “That was half the time of your usual shower.”

“That’s because it started getting cold,” Crowley says with a frown. He had been right in the middle of a daydream when the temperature dipped from pleasantly warm, to lukewarm, and started edging towards icy cold.

Aziraphale pats the space in front of him and the redhead happily occupies it at once, settling between his legs and leaning back against his chest. Aziraphale takes the towel from his hand and gently dries Crowley’s hair as they listen to the steady thrum of rain still coming down.

“Thanks for coming with me. I know a plant show probably wasn’t the most exciting thing you could have done this weekend, not to mention this trip lasting an extra night, but I appreciate it,” Crowley says, tipping his head back slightly to look at him.

“I had a lovely time, actually. Learned about some plants, got to spend time with you.” He runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, tugging lightly at the strands. “Besides, this little extension just proves my point of why I tend to overpack instead of bringing the bare minimum like some people tend to do.” 

Crowley can’t help but laugh at the jibe. They’d had a whole discussion the day before about how much clothing they pack when going away for a night. Crowley was of a mind that only bringing the essentials was easiest, but Aziraphale argued that it was always better to bring some extra, just in case. “Yes, okay, you were right. Having an extra set of clothes came in handy.” He yawns and arches his back in a stretch, shifting to lay beside Aziraphale instead. “Now turn off the light and get down here so we can rest.”

Aziraphale does just that, curling an arm around his partner and smiling to himself when he nuzzles into his chest. Comforted by the sound of rain and the smell of shampoo and the warmth of Crowley in his arms, Aziraphale falls asleep soon too.


	48. Did you get my letter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another different human au?

Crowley shuts the boot of his car and hands Aziraphale his bag. He’s smiling, but it falls a little flat and he’s not sure Aziraphale could notice that anyway since he seems incapable of meeting his eyes for more than an instant. Instead the blonde looks only in his general direction, or at the ground, or off somewhere else entirely.  
Crowley hates it. The worst case scenario he’d come up with was that Aziraphale would turn him down in an overly gentle way and that Crowley would be left with a wounded pride, but that they would laugh about it in the end and move on and still be friends. No, this scenario was worse.

Aziraphale was going away on a retreat. It had been planned for a while, he was off to somewhere remote with little to no technology, and when Crowley had first heard about it he was surprised – but he also knew Aziraphale was a little tired of the city and had been wanting to travel so it made sense in a way. He’d offered to drive Aziraphale to the airport and to pick him up.

Realizing that the blonde was going to be away for a whole month, Crowley decided it was as good a time as any to ask him out. If it went well, their reunion would be especially nice. If it didn’t, well, maybe it would be forgotten about in that month and things could carry on as normal.

The second the word ‘date’ had slipped through his lips, Aziraphale had frozen, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights, unsure which way to turn or what to do at all. After a full minute of dead silence, Crowley changed the subject. After several more minutes of awkwardness, Crowley took his leave, figuring he needed some space.

And now here they were, less than 24 hours later, about to part for a month and still feeling very uncomfortable, very strained. They exchange a few words – enough to give him hope – and then Aziraphale is walking towards check in and Crowley is left feeling alone, yet optimistic that things would work out.

\-------

_When you come back, you better tell me all about it, okay? And, if you’d like, I’ll take you out to dinner. As… as a date?_

Aziraphale keeps playing the scene over and over in his head. He wishes he could rewrite the part where he doesn’t say anything. Anything! Just sits there, no doubt looking shocked. But he can’t rewrite it because it already happened and besides, he still doesn’t know what to say. He likes Crowley. He has liked him a long time, maybe since before they were really even friends. But now? They’re best friends. And suppose they start dating and then things aren’t so good after all. That was a scary thought.

Crowley is calm when he picks him up in the morning, and that’s just like him, to let Aziraphale take his time coming to a conclusion. He’s quiet and stiff and not himself, but he’s calm. Aziraphale almost wishes he weren’t. He almost wishes Crowley would push him a little for an answer, would ask him again.

Instead he gives him a tight smile and hands him his bag. Aziraphale sees that everything-is-fine façade crack for just a second when he murmurs, “Thank you for the ride. We’ll talk when I’m back.” 

For just a second there is a flash of expectation, and then he is unreadable again, saying, “Of course. I’ll be here.”

The plane takes off, and Aziraphale realizes with a pang that he misses Crowley. It hasn’t even been long since they saw each other but there’s a whole month until he returns, and now he knows that Crowley likes him too and he already misses him. Aziraphale silently curses himself for choosing a place so remote and fumbles through his bag for paper and a pen. Crowley always did have a fondness for handwritten things anyway. It takes several drafts before he’s satisfied with what he’s written, but he mails it off to Crowley as soon as he can.

_\-------_

Aziraphale enjoys his time off but at the same time, he’s counting down the days until he can return home. The second he exits the gate he’s searching for Crowley. A small part of him is worried that maybe he hadn’t come to see him, that he’d thought it over and decided that he didn’t want to be with him after all. This thought dissolves and Aziraphale is flooded with relief when he catches sight of a familiar face and makes a bee-line for him.

“Crowley!”

“Hey, Aziraph- oof!”

They stumble back a couple steps as Aziraphale launches himself at the redhead, throwing his arms around his neck in an embrace.

“You’re here,” Aziraphale sighs.

“Of course I am. Where else would I be?” He smiles, soft and easy. “These are for you, by the way.” He presses a bundle of yellow roses into Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale bites his lower lip and leans back to put some space between them. “I was worried, when you didn’t answer my letter. I thought maybe you changed your mind, or maybe I had ruined things by-by- not answering you sooner. I shouldn’t have left without answering.” He swallows hard. “So, I’m glad you’re here.”

Crowley blinks at him. “When I didn’t answer…? I uh, I’m not sure I follow,” he says slowly.

Aziraphale stares. “Did you get my letter?” 

Crowley slowly shakes his head. “I didn’t- I didn’t get anything from you. I haven’t heard anything this whole month. I was worried.” He stops, takes a breath. “I was worried I ruined things by… Well. What I said. Asked.” He shuffles his feet. “You know.”

That hits Aziraphale like a ton of bricks. Crowley thought the whole time that things were still tense between them. A whole month apart and not knowing.

The blonde surges forward, pressing their lips together and Crowley goes stock still, taking a second to process what’s happening before he kisses back. When they break away, Crowley’s eyes are wide, searching Aziraphale’s face.

“Oh dearest,” Aziraphale breathes. “My letter was about how sorry I am for not doing that before I left. I am so, so sorry I left you waiting. I just- I was afraid that if I said yes and then somewhere along the line things didn’t work out-“ His voice catches in his throat. “You’re my best friend, Crowley.”

Crowley pulls him into another hug. “I can’t imagine not being friends with you, Aziraphale. At least friends. I believe in us – that we can make it work, whatever happens.”

“Me too. Oh, but I am sorry I didn’t just tell you when you asked.”

Crowley takes a step back and grins, eyes shining. “You can make it up to me by taking me out for dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be slowing way down for while
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting :)


	49. I'll do it for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t ask me what time period this happens in because honestly I don’t know. I’m imagining at least a few hundred years ago maybe?

“Aziraphale… hey, are you even listening to me?” Crowley waves one hand in front of the angel’s face, and he snaps back to attention.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Crowley looks at him seriously. “What’s got you so distracted?”

Aziraphale’s gaze drops and he pushes around some food on his plate. “You know that family that lives on the corner? With the goat?”

“And the kid that sings while she does chores? Sure.”

“Precisely. Well, they were struggling to make ends meet as it was, and now she… she’s quite ill.”

“The girl?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale chews his lower lip and sits back, finding himself to be too worried to eat.

“So?” Crowley pops a grape into his mouth, pleased by the sound it makes when he bites into it.

“So-“ Aziraphale huffs, looking more than a little upset by Crowley’s lack of interest. “Well I’ve been interacting with them since I moved here! I don’t enjoy seeing them struggle – or anyone really, for that matter – but especially them. They’re all quite nice. Elizabeth – the girl – has some real talents even beyond the singing.” 

Crowley sighs. “I meant, so why don’t you do something about it? A little miracle and ta-da, problem solved.”

Aziraphale wrings his hands and mumbles something Crowley doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I said I can’t!” The angel looks distressed now. “Of course it’s crossed my mind to help them out myself, but I got word from upstairs not to do anything. Part of the ineffable plan. Suffer through illness then gain faith and become good afterward.” He wanted to believe that by ‘afterward’ Gabriel meant after she became well again, but he had a feeling that wasn’t that case. The girl’s fever hadn’t wavered and she was too weak to get out of bed most days. More than likely she wouldn’t make it, and the father would turn to the church out of guilt, thinking her illness had been punishment for his sins, or some other nonsense.

“I’ll take care of it.” Crowley says after a long silence.

“Pardon?”

“Your hands are tied on the matter, not mine. I haven’t heard a peep from below about staying out of anything.”

“Yes, well. Well. You don’t have to help.” It sounds less like a plea for Crowley to leave the situation alone, and more like a reminder that he really doesn’t have to help. He doesn’t have to do anything. He’s a demon, it would make more sense for him to do nothing in fact, and let the family suffer what may come. “You don’t have to do that for them.”

“I won’t.” Crowley sniffs and turns away. “I’ll do it for you.”

“For m-“ The demon is gone before Aziraphale has the chance to ask what he means.

Within the next two days, the girl’s fever breaks. Within the next week she is well enough to move about the house. Within two weeks, her crystal clear singing voice could be heard again and you would never have guessed she had been at death’s door. The family and neighbors attributed her recovery to the miracle of healing prayers.

Aziraphale feels relieved, and Heaven ends up winning over more souls than anticipated.

He does not thank Crowley the next time they meet; neither says a single word about the healing. Instead they go out for lunch, and Aziraphale takes out his money saying “I’ll take care of it,” before Crowley can even offer to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said i would be busy for a bit, but writing is such a good way to procrastinate
> 
> i also have the next chapter done and it will be up tomorrow! :)


	50. Call me when you get home.

“You’re sure you don’t want to just stay the night? You’re not in any condition to drive.”

“Hnng,” Crowey groans. “Gotta get home. Have a lot to take care of in the morning.”

Aziraphale highly doubted Crowley would be awake early the next day, but chose to keep that to himself. “If you insist, I’ll call you a cab then. You can come back for your car tomorrow, yes?”

“Mm. Okay.” While they’d both had a fair amount to drink, Crowley was only mildly drunk. It was the alcohol combined with exhaustion that had him acting a bit out of character, his cool and calm persona giving way to a dreamy-eyed doting type. He would much rather stay the night, but the rational part of his head knew he would surely be behind on his errands the next day if he did.

“And Crowley?” Aziraphale says before he shuts the door and lets the cab pull away from the curb. “Call me when you get home.”

Crowley gives him a lazy smile. “Of course, angel.”

The cab speeds away and Aziraphale watches it go until it’s around the corner out of sight. He sets about tidying up his flat, straightening the pillows on the couch and setting glasses in the sink. Then, he gets a phone call.

He frowns and glances at the clock. Just past one in the morning. He crosses the floor and picks up his phone, expecting to see an unfamiliar number and gearing himself up to give whatever telemarketer has the gall to call this late (early?) an earful – except that a string of heart emojis pops up in place of a contact name, and Aziraphale realizes that a song is playing in place of his standard ringtone. 

“Crowley?”

“Aaaaangel. Hi. ‘S me.”

He glances at the clock again and guesses that Crowley couldn’t be more than halfway back to his apartment, even if the cab driver had a lead foot to match Crowley’s own. “Is everything alright, dear? Did you leave something here?” 

“No.” A slow sigh. “I just missed you.”

“You missed me?” Aziraphale repeats. “We just spent hours together, and you miss me already?” He wonders if Crowley can hear him smiling.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, sounding a little sad, but maybe it’s just tiredness. “I just like you so much. Sooooo much. Do you know that?”

Aziraphale drops himself into his armchair, getting the feeling that this phone call may last for a while. “I have an idea,” he replies. “Based on all the, you know, flirting and kissing, and calling me ‘angel.’ And the fact that we’re dating. I figured you like me at least a little.”

“More than a little,” Crowley insists. “So much. You’re so lovely. I just wanna –“ Another sigh. “Wanna see you smile. Nnn, make you smile, even better. Wanna sit with you while you work, listen to you hum along to the radio, or sing along if you know the words. Wanna bring you cocoa and make sure you drink it before it goes cold. Wanna hold you.” Yet another sigh, or possibly a yawn. More likely a yawn at this point. “I really like holding you. All soft and warm. Even that time you elbowed me in the side because I tickled you was okay.”

Managing to stifle a laugh, Aziraphale leans back in his chair. He hadn’t meant to elbow him like that, it was just a reflex. Crowley keeps talking.

“You wouldn’t believe how much I like you, but I want you to know. It’s a lot. Sometimes I can imagin- Wha? Hold on.” There is a shuffling noise and a grumble and then Crowley is back. “My battery is dying.”

“Oh, alright. We should hang up, then,” Aziraphale says half-heartedly. He was looking forward to hearing what else Crowley had to say. “I don’t want to leave you without a working phone.”

“Hnn. Yeah. I’ll call or text you when I’m back though.”

“Okay. And Crowley?”

The is a beat of silence and for a moment the blonde thinks he’s already hung up but then, “Yeah?”

“I like you too. A lot. Just so you know.”

“Oh good. I’d feel silly if you didn’t. Good night.”

The line clicks off. Aziraphale remains where he’s sitting for several minutes, trying to sort out the mess tangle of warm and fuzzy emotions Crowley has managed to bring up. He had gotten used to Crowley becoming more affectionate when drunk or sleepy, but that wave of adoring words was something new. New, and very nice to hear.

He gets ready for bed, only climbing under his covers and settling down to sleep once he gets another message from Crowley. It comes as a text.

_I’m home. Good night._

Attached is selfie of the redhead, flashing a tired smile at the camera, already wearing his dark pajamas.

Aziraphale saves the picture and makes it his lock screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like particular AU a lot. So much. :)
> 
> What song do you think is set as Crowley’s ringtone? And did Aziraphale set it, or did Crowley change it himself?


	51. I think you're beautiful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU  
> Crowley's hair color isn't natural and, well, now neither is Aziraphale's.

Aziraphale knew he should have used his own shampoo. Or, he reflected, at least read the labels on the bottles instead of blindly grabbing at them as he showered since Crowley evidently kept some of his hair dye in there. He stared at his image in the mirror and frowned. His once white-blonde curls were now a mess of soft pink. At least it wasn’t bright red. 

Aziraphale can just imagine the shock on Crowley’s face when he sees it. Ugh. Shock followed by merciless glee at the mistake. Maybe he could wear a hat for a while? A beanie would cover it up nicely. Of course it would be rather strange to be wearing a hat indoors. And right after a shower at that.  
He can smell popcorn and knows Crowley will be waiting out in his living for Aziraphale to join him for movie night. Better to just get it over with.

Crowley’s face when Aziraphale walks into the room looks exactly how he pictured it would; mouth hanging open, eyes wide and eyebrows reaching up towards his hairline. Similarly as expected, his mouth quickly curved into a suppressed smile. “That’s a- a new look-“ He manages to say.

Aziraphale sighs. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Crowley bursts into laughter at the admission and spills half the popcorn he’s holding as he falls back against the couch.

Aziraphale sniffs. “It’s _your_ fault really. Who just keeps hair dye in the shower like that?”

“I’m sorry, really. I don’t mean to laugh I just- it was so unexpected.” He sits up again, his smile suggesting he really isn’t very sorry at all.

“I think I look ridiculous now,” Aziraphale sighs, running a hand through his hair hopelessly and moving to sit beside him.

“Well, _I_ think-“ Crowley leans forward to run a hand of his own through the colored curls. “I think you look beautiful.” He smiles and adds, “Seriously,” when Aziraphale glares at him. “It suits you.”

“How can you possibly say with a straight face that _pink hair_ suits me?”

“It does! Because, you know…” Crowley pauses.

Aziraphale narrows his eyes, sure that Crowley only has a teasing comment readied on his tongue.

“Because it looks a lot like candy floss. And you’re so sweet.” Crowley smiles as brightly as he can. Until he gets hit in the face by the pillow Aziraphale swings at him. Even after that he simply falls back, laughing again, clutching his sides. Try as he might to keep an upset expression on his face, Aziraphale smiles a little too at the comparison. It did sort of look like candy floss.

“But _seriously_ seriously,” Crowley says once he’s got the laughter out of his system. “That stuff is only temporary dye. A few good washes and you should be back to that lovely blonde of yours.”

That catches Aziraphale’s attention. “You mean it? I won’t be stuck with this for too long?” What a relief. 

“Nah. Unless I can convince you to keep it like that for a while?” He catches the pillow before it hits him this time. “Ah, I didn’t think so.” He snickers. “Although I’m glad you didn’t end up leaving the dye too long. It’d be silly if we had matching hair color.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert gif of michael screaming WHAT HAS HAPPEN TO YOUR HAIR*
> 
> wow! 50% of the way through this work! thank you all so much :D


	52. Are you sure?

Aziraphale takes the set of keys Crowley holds out to him. “Are you sure?” He asks slowly, holding them by the keyring as if he were nervous to touch the keys themselves. And he was, a little.

“Angel, I already agreed to teach you to drive. If you keep asking I’m only going to change my mind again.” It had taken several weeks of Aziraphale’s cajoling to convince him, and even after Crowley had privately decided he would do it, he continued to tell Aziraphale he wouldn’t for a few days. Just because he was enjoying the attention and how the angel was being a little extra nice to him.

“No, not that, I meant… This is for the Bentley. You just handed me the keys to your Bentley.”

“Uhuh.” Crowley studies the worried look on Aziraphale’s face. “You know that you need the keys to start the car, right? I’m aware you don’t know much about cars but I was quite certain you knew that much at least.”

“You love that Bentley.” There were few things that Crowley could be said to love, but the Bentley was definitely one of them.

“Uhuh.”

“So… don’t you think maybe… I should start with a different car?”

Crowley looks at him for a long time. “A different car? This is the only car I have.” He turns in a circle, looking around as if there were another car in their driveway he had missed seeing. “What different car were you expecting?”

“Well- I- I know this is your only car I just- I didn’t think you would be teaching me to drive in it.” As long as Aziraphale had been around, he’d never so much as taken a car out of park, much less a Bentley, much less _Crowley’s_ Bentley. He’d been expecting for Crowley to somehow procure some other car; something small and not expensive and of no sentimental value whatsoever. Just in case things went terribly wrong. Not that he was expecting them to, but you never know.

“Angel, you ask me to teach you to drive, you know I have one car, I’m not following your logic here. Do you want a different car? I can go steal a different car I guess. What did you have in mind?” He starts to walk down the pavement in the direction of their nearest neighbor, and Aziraphale grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Steal?! No, my goodness, dear boy, that’s not what I meant either.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I’m just surprised you’re trusting me to drive your car. I know how much it means to you, I was expecting you to find something else for me to use to learn in.”

“Ah,” Crowley waves one hand dismissively and saunters around to the passenger side. “I trust you to drive it because I know you, Aziraphale. You’ll be very careful. Do you trust me to teach you?”

“Of course I trust you to teach me, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think I could trust you to teach me.”

“Well then, problem solved. Get in, start the car.”

\---

Aziraphale is an excellent driver, as it turns out. He checks the mirrors continuously even though they’re on an empty street with no other cars and no pedestrians in sight. He’s sure to use his turn signals. He starts off exceedingly slowly, hardly touching his foot to the pedal, only speeding up to limit at Crowley’s insistence that driving too slow can be dangerous too. 

All in all it’s a very good lesson, and as Aziraphale turns the car back onto their street, he’s relieved that it went smoothly, and they are safe, and the car is safe.

And then he turns just a little too early as they approach the driveway of their cottage and the side of the car scrapes along the bushes with a groan.

Crowley glances at him sideways. “Seriously? You drove all over the place and then managed to scrape her up once we get _home_? Next time we’re going to focus on your parking.”

Aziraphale’s eyes are wide. “I can fix it.” He’d been so careful, he couldn’t believe he’d messed up anyway. And right at the end! Right in front of their own home!

“Hm? Oh.” Crowley sets a hand on Aziraphale’s arm. “I was just teasing, I’m sure it’s nothing. You did great today.” He slides out the door and takes a peek. A few small scratches to the paint here and there, all of which of are fixed up with a wave of his hand before Aziraphale is even out of the car. “See?” Crowley says, when the angel joins him. “Not a speck. So loosen up next time, okay?” He gives him a nudge and a smile. “You really did great. I didn’t have to miracle us to safety once.”

“Oh. Good,” Aziraphale sighs. “Still, I’ll try not to hit the bushes next time.” He turns and gives Crowley a quick kiss. “Thanks for teaching me. Meet you inside.”

“Sure thing,” Crowley replies. He watches him head into the cottage, then glances at the bushes. “I should probably trim these back a little anyway.”


	53. Have fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> turns out, it was just the one snake that St. Patrick drove out of Ireland

“Head or tails?”

“Heads.” 

Aziraphale always picked heads, but Crowley liked to ask anyway. “Alright then, heads I go, tails you go,” Crowley says as he gives the coin an upward flick sending it spinning.

Aziraphale snatches it out of the air just as it reaches its peak. “I really truly don’t want to go, so I’m going to flip the coin.”

“What difference does it make who does the flip?”

Aziraphale gives him a look. “Crowley. I have lost 18 of the last 20 coin tosses. And I’m quite sure the 2 that you lost, you actually wanted to go on.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m _cheating_?” The demon puts on his best scandalized face but it’s not quite convincing. He’d been wondering if Aziraphale knew the game was rigged and just went along, or if the angel was really that trusting and oblivious.

“No, I’m not suggesting that,” he sniffs. “I’m stating it as a fact. So. I will toss the coin myself this time.” He does just that, catching it again and showing Crowley the result with a smug smile. “Heads. You lose.”

“Two out of three?” Crowley asks hopefully, flashing his brightest smile.

“No, you lost and you’re going,” Aziraphale says shaking his head. “Have fun,” he adds with a bright smile of his own.

“Yeah, right.”

\--

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Dear, you’re clearly upset and-“

“Yessss, and I don’t want to talk about it!” Crowley snaps. “Our duties were taken care of, if that’s when you’re worried about,” he huffs after a minute.

Aziraphale frowns and sets one hand on the demon’s shoulder. “I’m worried about you.”

Crowley glances at him sideways and shifts slightly closer on the couch. “You’ll laugh,” he mumbles.

“I won’t, not since it’s got you feeling like this.”

Crowley considers this a moment and really, he was never able to deny the angel when he had that expression on his face. “I took care of both our jobs, and decided to take a little time to myself since it was a nice day out. Sunny, warm; perfect for laying in the grass and enjoying the day, so I turned into a snake and that’s what I did.” He pauses and takes a breath. “Or rather, that’s what I did until some madman – must’ve been one of yours because he had some sort of power I couldn’t fight back against – ran me right off the island! And then – here’s the kicker – I couldn’t get back on the island! Ended up scaring the daylights out of some people when I climbed up onto their boat out of nowhere and – you’re laughing! You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” Aziraphale exclaims, doubling down on his efforts to contain his amusement. It was a terrible thing to happen, but the image of Crowley being chased out of Ireland was a little funny. He leans forward and kisses Crowley’s forehead. “Suppose it was someone who figured out how to ward off demons? Or just snakes maybe,” he added with a little laugh.

Crowley let out a quiet growl, but gave it up when the angel ran his fingers through his hair soothingly.

“I’m sorry all that happened to you dear, but thank you for taking care of things for us.”

“Yeah yeah. But you’re definitely doing the next one.”

“That’s fair…” Aziraphale hums then adds in a voice that sounds just a touch guilty, “Especially since I cheated on this coin toss to make sure you lost.”


	54. Sit down, I'll get it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> human AU; anathema is an old friend of crowley's

The oven timer dings and Aziraphale starts to rise from his seat but Crowley pats his hand. “Sit down, I’ll get it.”

Anathema glances between the two of them with a smile, waiting for Crowley to walk just out of earshot before asking, “So, how did you manage to get him to cook? I could never do it, and we were roommates for, I dunno, a couple years at least.”

Aziraphale’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What do you mean? He cooks all the time.”

Anathema tilts her head slightly. “You haven’t put him up to this? Making dinner?”

“Not at all. Why?”

“The Anthony I knew hated cooking. Not that he was bad, just avoided whenever he could. It was always instant this or that. Or takeout, he knew all the best takeout places.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. I think since we started dating, he does most of the cooking actually.” He thinks for a moment. “Now that you mention it, when we first got together it was a lot of really simple dishes, but I figured he just thought simple things made it easier to see what kind of stuff I liked. He’s gotten quite good since then.”

The brunette takes a slow sip of her tea. “He must really like you,” she says with another smile.

Aziraphale opens his mouth to investigate further but Crowley reappears from the kitchen, a pan of lasagna in his hands.

“Ah, ouch, be careful it’s hot, ah,” He sets them down on the trivets already on the table. “I haven’t tried making this before, but I think it’s turned out alright.”

\-------

“Crowley, can I ask you a question?” Aziraphale starts, long after Anathema has gone home and the couple are left to lounge on the sofa, each with a glass of wine in hand.

“You just did.” The redhead grins. “Go ahead.”

“Do you like cooking?”

Crowley takes another sip and holds it in his mouth a moment before swallowing and replying, “I don’t mind it.”

“Would you like it if I did the cooking for us more often?”

Crowley swirls his glass. “Is this a subtle way of saying you don’t actually like my cooking? Because you could just tell me you don’t like my cooking,” he says at last with a teasing smile.

“No! Quite the opposite, I love that you cook for us so much. I was just curious. Anathema mentioned that you hated cooking at one point. If that’s still true, I’d be more than happy to take care of it more.” The blonde hated to think that he’d been letting Crowley handle the food when he didn’t enjoy in the least.

“Ah, I see.” A pause. “Cooking just for myself, I’m not a fan of it. But for you? I love cooking for you.” He reaches out and take Aziraphale’s free hand. “I like figuring out what you already like. I like making new things for you to try. It makes me feel like I’m taking care of you, in some small way, and I like that a lot.” He lets out a slow breath. “I like _you_ a lot… But I hope you knew that part already.” Crowley looks up from where his eyes were trained on the other’s hand.

“Crowley, that… you’re the sweetest.” Aziraphale leans closer and captures his lips in a kiss. “How about, to make cooking more fun, we do it together from now on?”

“Mmm, I certainly can’t complain about that idea.”


	55. I made reservations.

“Crowley? Is that you? I’d just like to finish up these papers and then I’ll be all… Oh my.” Aziraphale loses his train of thought when Crowley crosses into his frame of vision. “That’s a new look.”

“A rather old one, actually,” Crowley replies. He’s still dressed in black, but in place of a jacket he has a sort of shawl draped over and around him. His hair, though still short, looks to be curlier than usual. 

“Ah, that explains why it’s a bit familiar but, I’m not quite sure from where?” The angel purses his lips as he looks him over.

Crowley only smiles as the other tries to puzzle it out. “You’ll remember soon enough, I promise. Now don’t take too long, the restaurant I have in mind is, hm, a bit far from here.”

Aziraphale makes quick work of his remaining tasks and starts to head towards the door when Crowley stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Not taking the car tonight,” Crowley explains as he leads Aziraphale up the stairs toward the roof of the building.

“Far enough that we couldn’t simply drive there?” They had flown a time or two before, but only in a pinch. “Where exactly are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Don’t worry about it.”

“But if I don’t know where I’m going, how can I- oh!” The rest of his sentence is startled right off his tongue as Crowley scoops him up bridal style and lets his wings loose.

“Hold on,” he says with a grin.

\--

Angels and demons can fly in the way that birds do, soaring steadily across the sky. Or, they can fly in a way that is essentially fast travel. Point A to point B in nearly no time at all. In this case they used the latter, landing softly in an open but empty courtyard. Crowley sets the angel down carefully and helps in smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles on his coat, setting his hair neatly back into place before leading inside the closest building.

There is quite a queue of people which Aziraphale notes aloud. “Don’t worry about that, angel,” Crowley replies easily. He takes his hand and starts toward the reception stand. “I made reservations.”

They are seated shortly after at a quiet table, a small vase holding a single rose set in the center.

Aziraphale settles himself across from the demon, and all of a sudden, it finally clicks. “Oh!” Crowley hardly glances up from the menu, taking the exclamation to mean the other figured it out at last. 

“We- we’re not even in England anymore, are we?” He twists around, looking the restaurant over. It’s certainly changed since they were last there, but it’s definitely the same place.

“Welcome to Petronius’, is this your first visit with us?” A waiter asks, approaching their table with a smile.

“No, but it’s been a few years.” Crowley supplies while Aziraphale’s mind is still reeling. “Anything on the menu you would recommend?”

“The oysters are always a favorite. Certainly our most popular dish.”

“Of course they are. That’s what we’ll have then - and a bottle of your finest white wine.”

“Right away.”

Crowley redirects his attention to Aziraphale and smiles at the look of amazement on his face. “Not expecting this?”

“Not in the least! I had no idea this place still existed. I mean, it’s different of course but it’s still here.” He leans forward. “How did you find it?”

“By chance,” Crowley admits. “I caught word about a restaurant that’s supposedly been around since ancient times, and I decided to look into it a little, just curious if it might be of any interest to us. As soon as I recognized it, well, I knew I had to make a reservation for us.” He fidgets a little in his seat and asks as nonchalantly as he can manage, “What do you think? A good idea?”

“A great idea, Crowley. This is wonderful.” Aziraphale reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. “And I think it’s adorable that you dressed for the occasion.”

“I’m not adorable,” Crowley grumbles, but his blush gives away that he’s pleased with the compliment.

Their food and drinks arrive shortly after, Aziraphale’s face lighting up once again as he sees and smells the dish. “It’s really just how I remember them to be.”

“Please let me know if there is anything else I can you to make your meal or your special evening more enjoyable,” the waiter says before he takes his leave.

“…Special evening?” Aziraphale repeats quietly, glancing to Crowley with an eyebrow raised. 

Crowley clears his throat. “The exact day is too fuzzy, it was so long ago but I took my best guess. So…. Happy anniversary. Of the first time we ate together.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasps softly. “The oysters, of course.”

“Mmm,” Crowley hums in agreement. “Awfully bold of you to tempt me to aphrodisiacs considering we hardly knew each other yet at that time, but I suppose it all worked out.” He’s holding back a cheeky smile but can’t resist letting it loose when Aziraphale tuts in forced disapproval.

Aziraphale looks around, looks at the food laid out between them, looks at Crowley and smiles wide. “Happy anniversary, my dear.” He picks up his glass and holds it up for a toast. “To us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't proofread this one tbh, feel free to let me know if there's any glaring errors


End file.
